


Lustful Persuasions

by wolfiefics



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Battle Of Waterloo, Character Death, Crossdressing, M/M, Napoleonic Wars, Period-Typical Homophobia, This is a war, but not kinky, but they die well, don't worry there is a happy ending for our heroes, some Peter Pettigrew but he's not a good guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:03:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfiefics/pseuds/wolfiefics
Summary: Set during the Napoleonic Era, Sir Severus Snape and Lord Remus Lupin give into their attraction in a time when being in love and two men was a capital crime. Romance, balls, betrayal, gossip, the Frost Fair of 1815 and Waterloo...they survive it all, but will their love?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started from a black and white piece of artwork by the artist skitty skat, who drew Lupin in Regency apparel as a gentleman and Snape in a Regency style dress. My roommate giggled madly and digitally colored it. I had been voraciously been watching the Sharp's Series from BBC and things took off from there.
> 
> Everything I know about the Napoleonic Wars comes from my own research for my Regency era original fiction, the Sharpes' tv show (Sean Bean in uniform.mmmm good) and a lot of online research specifically on how the Battle of Waterloo transpired. Mistakes are all mine, Unbetaed. Originally published to the fandom in 2012.

"What shall we wager, then?" asked the drawling voice of Lucius, Lord Malfoy, to his racing opponent, Severus Snape. Excited chatter around them died down a moment while the two considered the terms of their wager.

Sir Severus Snape glowered at his opponent a moment, trying to decide if Lucius was serious or not. After all, he'd only asked to race his new team of blacks against Lucius' own greys, especially in this weather. They were only driving as far as a little inn north of London, turning around, and coming back. Severus wasn't keen on making a wager, but he considered for a moment and then smiled most wickedly.

"If you lose, which you will, Lucius," Severus drawled, steadying his team with a merely tightening of the reins, "I will concoct the most humiliating, disgustingly romantic way for you to propose marriage to the divine Miss Narcissa Black." There were hoots from their assembled cronies at this. "In public." The gales of laughter disturbed the two teams of horses, causing their owners to spend a few seconds calming them.

Lucius eyed his good friend warily and then gave one short nod. "Agreed. Shall we begin?"

"Wait a moment!" called out a voice. Lucius looked down from his perch from his dark green racing curricle. Severus couldn't see the speaker but sighed at the man's almost drunken tone. "What if Snape loses?" There were roars of agreement at this oversight.

"Yes," mused Lucius, grinning with evil intent at his friend one curricle over. "What if you lose?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Severus said dismissively. Lucius delighted in personally torturing Severus, usually with Severus owing favors or helping Lucius with some scheme or other. "After all, it's not as if I can propose to my choice now."

"Ah yes," chuckled Lucius with a sneer. "The bluestocking Miss Evans." There were a few laughs.

"I have it!" crowed the unknown speaker in the crowd on the other side of Lucius' carriage. "Snape must dress in women's clothing and walk out with Lupin!" There was a hush as this drunken proposal sunk into the rest of the sodden brains of the gathered spectators. There were a few titters, then outright guffaws, followed by a chorus of agreements and acclamations.

Lucius blanched and Severus didn't feel all that steady himself. He ignored Lucius' brief, concerned look before the blond agreed with a single nod. Neither could think of something better. Many of Malfoy's new cronies were jealous of Snape's apparent close friendship with Malfoy and were eager to humiliate him. The terms had the added bonus of singly out and tormenting cruelly Remus Lupin, who was currently under social scrutiny for being exposed, rumor said, as a sodomite. Both men knew that Lucius would find a way to throw the race, somehow.

Lucius, for his part, was thinking the same lines as Severus. The last thing he wanted to do was throw the race, in truth, but Severus Snape was his good friend. Snape saved his life in Spain and Severus entrusted Lucius with his innermost secret: Severus Snape too preferred men over women but had the intelligence to keep it a better secret. The last thing Lucius wanted was Severus' own secrets exposed. If that secret became public knowledge, then all of Severus' secrets could become public knowledge. A war hero like Severus could suffer greatly at such exposure.

"Very well," agreed Lucius. "Let the race begin."

Someone's doxy, giggling madly, dropped her kerchief into the slushy mud to signal the race's start. The two teams surged forward, darting through the heavy London traffic carefully. Their drivers concentrated on getting the horses and the expensive equippage through the teaming masses of London's streets before letting the horses have their heads on the open road of London's north highway.

Knowing that Lucius intended to throw the race, Severus allowed the other man to gain a lead. What neither man expected was for Fate to intervene, in the form of Snape's own equippage losing a wheel and breaking an axle. The mud was thick on the well-traveled roads in early December. While the snow had melted the winters in England were lately notorious for being harsh.

Severus and Lucius also did not anticipate to have a spy for the cronies they left behind, in the form of Amycus Carrow, a notorious gossip and none to bright. Severus cursed as Carrow slowed his gelding, circled Snape's broken down curricle to ascertain the damage and then kicked his horse into a run to chase after Malfoy, a triumphant expression upon his face. By the time Lucius realized Severus was not behind him, Carrow was pacing beside him, relating Snape's accident with great relish. With a witness such as the dim-witted Amycus, there was no way Lucius could invent his own accident to make the race a draw.

That was how Sir Severus Snape lost his ill-advised wager to Lucius, Lord Malfoy and Fate readied herself for the next throw of the dice.

* * *

The Honorable Remus Lupin nodded politely at an old school acquaintance, who blanched noticeably and managed to return the nod quickly. As Remus watched the gentleman turn his horse in the other direction and almost mow down a dowager and two young ladies in his haste to distance himself from the social pariah, Remus reflected on whether or not a journey to the Lake District was in order. He sighed. A loner by nature, Remus would not have considered being ignored by Society a bad thing altogether. However, being a social pariah was more stressful than he'd thought it would be.

People were out enjoying the unexpected break in the weather and taking advantage of it to do last minute socializing and shopping before heading to the country for Christmas, Boxing Day and the New Year. Remus rarely went home himself so he was always in London, uncomfortable though it was currently for him.

"The hypocrite," snarled Sirius Black, Viscount Grimm, heir to the earldom of Grimmauld. "Like it's not popular knowledge that he favors a nice flogging at Madame Tulle's every Tuesday evening." He belatedly shot Remus an apologetic smile.

"Never mind, Sirius," Remus told him calmly. "I don't care about his sort, anyway."

"Yes," drawled Lord James Potter, swinging his cane idly as they walked the park, "do shut up. The more fuss you make over this, Sirius, the less likely the tabbies will forget."

Remus gave a sharp shout of laughter that held little humor. "You don't honestly think they're going to forget Peter's drunken announcement in Almack's, of all places, do you? When I didn't respond to the accusation, I thought Lady Jersey's eyes were going to fall right out of her head."

"Another hypocrite," snapped Sirius. "At least Peter won't be invited back to Almack's if Lady Jersey has any say and she'll have plenty to say."

"Drop it," James advised again, more sternly. "If we ignore it, it will pass." 

His eyes lit up and a smile brightened his open features as a carriage pulled up beside them. A stylish and warmly dressed matron sat next to her equally stylish daughter, each holding a fine fur muff. With fiery red hair that matched her spirit and a hoydenish gleam constantly in her green eyes, Miss Lily Evans was a vision of loveliness. Her sister, on the other hand, looked sourer everytime Remus laid eyes upon her. What good points Miss Petunia Evans had, Remus wasn't sure, and they certainly were not immediately evident.

"Mrs. Evans!" James greeted happily, his hazel eyes never straying from Lily's visage. "And Miss Evans one and two."

Lily gave a laugh, Petunia scowled and Mrs. Evans gave James an indulgent smile. "Lord Potter, how wonderful to see you about this afternoon," the matron replied, her eyes skimming over Sirius with no little admiration and Remus with much less admiration. In fact, Remus could say the look he received was decidedly hostile.

Remus suppressed another sigh as he bowed to the ladies. Sirius straightened from his own perfunctory bow and tapped Remus on the shoulder. "Come, let us leave James to moon over his betrothed." Petunia scowled harder while Lily chuckled. Mrs. Evans smiled at James again. "We'll continue on, James. You catch us up later at the club. Come on, Remus." 

The two young men strolled away, leaving James to listen to the twitter of feminine tones. As they walked, Remus caught Mrs. Evans exclaim in a slightly admonishing tone, "Such questionable friends you have, my lord."

"Perhaps," James responded affably, "but they are good ones all the same."

"Maybe," Sirius said thoughtfully, tipping his hat coolly to an acquaintance of his father, "I should give the scandalmongers something to titter about and they'll leave you alone."

"Your father will kill you," Remus replied.

"That's okay. Regulus is the spare, after all, and much more his son than I have ever been." Sirius gave Remus a roguish grin. "It'd be worth a try and so much fun."

"Oh Sirius," laughed Remus. "You are a good friend."

"I know," shrugged Sirius dismissively. "If I ever get my hands on that rat Pettigrew, I'll throttle him." Sirius' eyes lit up. "A duel!"

"Is illegal, I'm a terrible shot and besides, talk about hypocritical," snorted Remus, slanting a wary look at Sirius. "Challenging a man for telling the truth."

"It's no one's business! After all, you ..." Sirius' sentence dropped off awkwardly. "Well, at least it's consensual! That's more that Goyle can say! Or Crabbe! I heard Lady Crabbe's ladies maid had to be transferred to one of the other estate houses." Sirius waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I've seen the pretty baggage. There's no way something like Crabbe seduce someone like her, no matter his title or wealth."

Remus listened to Sirius' idle chatter about their peers with half an ear. His awareness had been prickling for a few minutes now. Senses honed to a sharp edge of awareness during the war with Napoleon told him he was being watched. Like prey. He casually turned his head to the right and the left, peering over Sirius' shoulder. His gaze collided with a pair of black eyes watching him from beneath a dark beaver felt topper. Remus vaguely recognized the man but couldn't place a name.

He mastered a smile and a nod in the gentleman's direction, only to receive a brief widening of coal black eyes before the gentleman turned to speak with another man Remus sinkingly recognized as Lucius, Lord Malfoy. If this man was a friend of Malfoy's, being watched in such an intent manner would bode nothing but ill for Remus. He would take care in the future should the two ever be introduced.

Before he and Sirius left the park's boundaries to catch a hackney to their club, Remus chanced a glance over his shoulder in the direction of Malfoy and his mysterious friend. Black eyes were once again watching him and Remus shivered in a strange sense of interest.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus waited patiently for the door in front of him to open. He was rather nervous about his reception in this household; it had been several years and precious few letters exchanged. The door opened and the butler raised an eyebrow as Severus handed him his card. As soon as the butler read the name, a welcoming smile graced the older man's face.

"Welcome, Mister-" The butler coughed to cover his error. "I do beg your pardon, Sir Snape." 

Severus stepped inside the main foyer when the butler moved to allow him in the Mayfair home of the Evans family. He removed his beaver felt top hat and outer coat, which the butler took with great ceremony, placing them in their proper place on the hall butler. "Thank you, Havens. It's good to see you."

"And you, sir. The ladies are at home and just sitting down for tea in the drawing room. If you'll follow me, I'll announce you." 

Severus followed the once again dignified butler through the house, up the stairs to the private drawing room used by the family when they were not expecting guests for tea. He waited patiently as Havens entered the room and announced in stentorian tones, "Mrs. Evans, Miss Lily, Miss Petunia, you have an unexpected visitor. Sir Severus Snape."

Severus stepped into the room and around Havens in time to have his vision obscured by sea foam green wool. He was made deaf by a soprano squealing, "Severus!" Lily Evans, his friend since they were children in the same Dorset village, was hugging him and exclaiming over him, her green eyes shining with excitement and pleasure.

"Severus!" called out Mrs. Evans, her own eyes, light watery blue, twinkled at him in welcome. "Come in, come in. Do sit down and have tea with us." 

Severus disentangled himself from Lily's exuberant embrace and led her back to her seat around the small tea stand. "I'm glad to see you are all well," he stated, bowing over Mrs. Evans' hand and then Petunia's. Petunia gave him a dour look; they'd never gotten along. In Severus' opinion, Petunia was a spiteful hag.

Mrs. Evans waved a hand in an airy gesture for him to be seated in a chair next to the crackling fire. "Of course we are. Hearty folk, you know."

Severus grinned in spit of himself. He turned to Lily. "I understand congratulations are in order, Lily. A lord? For the daughter of a country squire? Quite a match."

Lily continued to smile at him. "Yes, Lord James Potter. Do you know him?"

Severus hesitated and then nodded. "We attended Eton together, after Mother scrimped for me to go. He went to Oxford, however, while I went on to Cambridge." He'd be damned before he told Lily how foul Lord Potter treated him when they were boys. With luck, the boy had grown into a man of character, but Severus rather doubted it. Leopards did not change their spots, as he knew far too well.

Lily glowed at him and they continued their idle chatter, catching up with family news of both the Evans and Snapes. Severus told them local gossip from their home village, where he'd been only a couple weeks before. After Squire Evans' death, the women took advantage of a relative's generosity in offering the use of his Mayfair home, moved to London for the girls to have their Season. The Evans', while low of rank and lacking in title, were quite well-off. Squire Evans and his ancestors were wise businessmen.

Just before it was time for him to politely depart, Severus turned to Mrs. Evans. "Might I have a private moment with Lily, Mrs. Evans? I have a request to make of her, a personal one, one old friend to another."

Mrs. Evans gave him an indulgent look. "Of course but only a moment! Come, Petunia." Petunia sniffed haughtily at him and followed her mother out of the room with a flounce. She gave Snape a significant look when she left the door ajar for propriety's sake.

"She gets more pleasant each passing year," Severus commented, glowering at the door Petunia purposefully left ajar.

"Mister Vernon Dursley offered for her," Lily told him, tilting her head this way and that as if she were looking for something amiss in Severus' countenance.

"Dursley." Severus pondered. "He's one of those factory cits, isn't he?"

Lily nodded. "Yes. I don't care for him much. His workhouses are deplorable but he has money and Petunia won't say no to money." Severus snorted but remained silent on further conversation regarding Petunia. "You needed to speak to me about something?"

"Yes." Severus cleared his throat awkwardly. "I find I need your help with something."

Lily raised a fine eyebrow, sipping the last of her tea. "Do you need money?"

Severus coughed to cover his surprise at her frankness. How he'd forgotten she was so blunt, he didn't know. "What? No, not money. As if I'd take your pin money anyway," he added with a scoff.

She slanted a curious look at him. "What then?"

"I've lost a wager," Severus began but he caught the severe look she gave him. "Don't glare at me like that, you minx. As I recall, you are the one who taught me whist when we were ten." Lily coughed to cover a snigger. Resigning himself to her inevitable merriment, Severus detailed the race, the wager and what he had to pay as his forfeit. Knowing that Lily, champion of lost causes that she was, would not appreciate Lupin being made the butt of a joke as part of the wager, he left that part out.

Lily's laughter hadn't subsided some minutes later, after Severus stopped talking. In fact, Severus thought he might have to whack her on the back. She was having difficulty drawing breath. Tears were streaming down her face and her hand began to wave almost spasmodically as she attempted, and failed, to regain control. Another couple of minutes passed and Lily managed to make her laughter into occasional hiccuping giggles.

"Oh, Severus!" she said, wiping tears from her flushed cheeks. "That is so priceless! Of course I'll help in your humiliation anyway I can."

"I knew I could rely on you, hoyden," he said drily.

"Let me think on how to go about this and I'll send round a note." Lily stood up. "I'm sorry, but I really must go. We have the musicale at the Bliss' tonight. Do you attend?"

Severus hesitated. He hated musicales. Most of the participants couldn't sing or perform and the audience was subjected to at least an hour of unmitigated torture before the refreshments that were usually equally abysmal. He didn't know what came after refreshments, he never made it that long. 

"I received an invitation, yes," he allowed.

She smiled brightly at him, her green eyes dancing mischievously. "Wonderful. You can reacquaint yourself with James and meet his friends, Lord Black and Mister Lupin."

Without even knowing it, Lily just handed him prime information. Severus smiled at her, bussed her cheek in a friendly manner and escorted her out of the room. "I look forward to it then. We must make sure he's up to scratch for you, handful of trouble that you are."

Lily smacked his arm in rebuke and Severus made his way downstairs, collected his things with a murmured thanks to Havens and departed. He had strategies to plan and Lucius to track down. He needed to know more about Remus Lupin.

* * *

Remus tucked in the last bit of his cravat, looking sideways in the mirror to see if he had the Mathematical. He smiled with satisfaction. Who needed a valet when you could do your own cravat without wasting one starched length of cloth? He inspected himself full in the mirror. He looked the perfect English gentleman, dressed as if he had not a care in the world. It was most unfortunate, then, that Remus had cares aplenty, the least being his current social predicament. At least the nightmares of Badajoz, Salamanca and Cadiz were becoming less frequent. 

A cheerful pounding on his door announced that either Sirius or James arrived to pick him up for the Bliss musicale. He strode from his bedroom, through the living area to the door of his small apartment. He swung the door open to reveal Sirius lounging in the doorway, smirking at him. "And how many cravats did you go through to get that perfect Mathematical?" he asked in lieu of a greeting.

"One," smirked Remus, his spirits rising.

"I hate you, you know," Sirius commented, as Remus shrugged into his evening jacket and great coat, locked the door behind them and followed Sirius down to the street. It was snowing again, Remus noted as he approached a waiting carriage with the Black family coat of arms on it.

"It's not my fault you can't fold your own length of cloth," Remus countered with a laugh.

James poked his head out of Sirius' carriage window. "Will you two hurry?"

"Eager to see his little filly, the mighty stallion," chortled Sirius.

"A stag to his doe," agreed Remus. James' mocking scowl at them made him laugh.

As Remus and Sirius settled into the seats of the carriage, James slapped Remus' shoulder congenially. "I think we may have turned around your predicament today, old boy."

"Oh?" asked Remus. "That can't be good, the two of you working to rid me of a reputation. You can't rid yourselves of your own reputations."

"Don't want to get rid of mine, buffoon," laughed Sirius. "It annoys the pater." Sirius and his father were well-known to loathe the sight of each other.

"Diggory approached us, making comments about hanging about with a known Molly. I told him that Peter's basis of making his judgement of you was that you couldn't piss straight." James chuckled. 

Remus was mortified. "What?" he croaked in disbelief.

"You know that old wives' tale, how to check to see if a man was a sodomite by checking if he pisses straight," Sirius explained. "Load of bullshit, of course. Who the hell can piss straight, I ask you?"

"Could you possibly get more crass, Sirius?" Remus inquired with glare.

"Yes."

"Don't try, please," grunted James. "Anyway, Diggory stared at us a moment, thought about it, and then told us that as drunk as Peter was that night, he couldn't have pissed straight either. I told him Peter was more likely to fancy boys than you were."

Remus grinned. "True. Don't fancy boys at all, really."

Sirius leaned forward to peer mock-earnestly into Remus' face from across the carriage. "I love you, Remus, but I don't love you that way."

Remus laughed. "You're not man enough for me anyway, Sirius."

James roared with laughter as Sirius sputtered with fake indignation. When James finally got control of himself he continued his story. "By the time we left the club late this afternoon, it was common knowledge that Peter wouldn't know what to do with a woman or a man, let alone being able to piss straight himself."

"I want to know how the hell he got into Almack's drunk as he was," muttered Sirius. "The damned doorman sniffs every man that enters those hallowed rooms."

"You know Peter," Remus said drily, "sneaky little rat. I just want to know why he did it."

"Who knows," sighed James. "At least we've started to control the damage of the rumors. It will take a week or so to counter them all, so hold tight. Head up. They haven't hung you yet."

"Thanks," Remus rejoined with a grin.

They disembarked when the carriage stopped, handing over their invitations as they stepped into the main foyer of the Bliss home. Remus trailed along with James and Sirius as they circulated the room before everyone found seats.

"I don't see Lily," muttered James. Remus and Sirius exchanged grins. "She said she and her sister planned to play."

Sirius looked around. "I see Petunia, so the other flower girl must be here somewhere."

"Very clever, Lord Black. So original. So droll." James leaped to his feet at the familiar, feminine voice and bowed over the lovely red-head's hand. She was escorted by...

Remus' stomach gave a funny lurch.

She was escorted by the black-eyed man who watched him in the park yesterday afternoon.

Lily curtsied to Sirius and Remus before turning to make introductions. "Sir Severus Snape, this is Sirius Black, Viscount Grimm and Mister Remus Lupin. And of course, Lord James Potter, my betrothed." The four gentlemen nodded politely at one another. 

"Haven't seen you since Eton," James said to Snape rather stiffly, his hazel eyes darting from Lily to Snape and back to Lily. 

Snape's lips curved in amusement, as if guessing James was fighting a jealous reaction to his escort of James' betrothed. "You went to Oxford. I went to Cambridge, followed quickly by an enlistment in the Guards." His black eyes turned to Remus once more. "I understand you too served in the army, Mister Lupin."

Remus cleared his throat a bit. "Yes. 95th Light."

Snape cocked an eyebrow. "High mortality rate."

Remus stilled. "Yes, we took out a lot of French." Snape's lips curved again in appreciation of Remus' irony, for both men knew Snape was referring to British losses, not French. "Where were you assigned?"

"Wellington moved me about quite a bit. I was a jack of all trades, you could say," was Snape's reply.

Lily stamped her foot, her green eyes sparking a warning. "Enough of the war. It's done, Napoleon is safely on Elba and may he rot there."

James magnanimously offered Lily a seat, after receiving a gracious nod from her mother a few rows away. Sirius sat on her other side, leaving Remus and Severus to sit together. Remus had the suspicion Snape planned the whole exercise, but for what purpose Remus couldn't fathom. "How do you know Miss Evans?" he asked politely, turning his attention to the programme in his hand in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

"We grew up in the same village. We were best friends as children, more like brother and sister actually," Snape confessed, shooting Lily a fond look that Remus noticed made James' ears turn slightly pink. "She has assured me that Potter is up to snuff but as her pseudo-sibling, I feel I must look him over anyway."

Sirius and Remus sniggered as James sent Snape a baleful look. Lily shot Snape a scolding glance before turning James' head with flattering words. Sirius smirked and Remus turned back to the programme. "It seems we'll first have a mangling of Mozart by the Misses Mannering."

"Followed by the butchery of Bach by Miss Bones and Miss Bagman."

"Not to mention the havoc of a horrid rendition of Haydn by Miss Hornby." Severus Snape, Remus noted, quickly caught onto the word game. He almost wondered if their hosts, the Bliss', purposefully assigned composers with the same first letter to the young ladies performing.

Remus grinned and glanced down at his programme again. "Miss Smythe performing a piece by Scarlatti."

"Never last but perhaps sometimes least, Miss Petunia Evans...Good God, she plays violin?" Sirius coughed when James elbowed him in the ribs and Lily glared at him. "I mean, Miss Petunia ushering in her younger sister with a violin solo by Paganini."

"Ending with lovely Lily Evans performing a piece by Schubert," James stated with a smile in his betrothed's direction in an effort to soothe the ruffled feathers Sirius elicited.

"No composers that start with E, then?" asked Sirius solicitously, realizing he'd gaffed.

"I thought I'd scandalize everyone and hum a waltz while I dance by myself on stage," Lily told them pertly. 

Severus laughed. "I imagine you would, if you didn't think your mother would strangle you with her ribbons when you were finished."

Soon the torture, er, musical performances began. By the time Lily got up, everyone in the room was ready to stampede for the refreshment table in the adjoining room. In the brief interlude as Lily readied her music, Snape leaned over to whisper to Remus, "I can assure you that at least Lily can play the piano forte. I suffered through enough music lessons waiting on her to finish so we could go fishing to know." 

Remus grinned at the mental image that comment invoked of Lily baiting a hook. He could see her doing it.

"I have few friends in town," Snape continued whispering casually. "I was wondering if you would be willing to join me for lunch tomorrow at Brooke's? I thought perhaps we'd share war stories with someone who knew what it was like."

Remus stiffened. "I would be delighted to accept the offer of lunch. However, I must decline the reminiscing on that subject. It's been hard to readjust into society even after all this time." He shifted his attention to Lily as she placed her fingers lightly on the keyboard and began to play. Snape's black eyes watched him a few moments longer before he too turned his attention to the young lady in front of them.

The opening to Schubert's Waltz in B Flat Major drifted over the audience. Lily's playing was soothing. The waltz wasn't energizing but relaxing and well-played. When she finished the piece James led the crowd in it's appreciative, and thankful, applause. Remus slipped from his chair and joined the crush heading for the refreshments, dodging around people to escape Snape.

He had to get out of here. He should never have accepted Snape's luncheon invitation. Even now, his nerves were alive, as if seeking Snape's presence. Remus had not felt that way in a very long time. In truth, he'd not had a relationship for several years. It was too dangerous, as unaccepted as his sexual orientation was in Society. Something about Snape drew him, however, and it frightened Remus in a way he didn't understand.

Sirius cornered Remus, took one look at his friend's drawn expression and decided it was time to flee. "Meet me at the carriage. I'll go get James." Remus nodded, thankfully Sirius was paying attention to someone other than a pretty lady for once. Remus collected his hat and coat and fled into the night.

"Mister Lupin!" Snape's voice followed him into the gaslit drive where the carriages were waiting to take their owners home. 

Remus, unable to force himself to be rude, turned to face his seemingly unwitting antagonist. "Yes, Sir Snape?"

"Severus, please. I look for my father every time someone calls me that." Snape's self-deprecating smile was easy to detect even in their shadowed surroundings. "I wanted to apologize if I offended you. I didn't mean discuss our experiences in the Peninsula per se. I meant..." The other man took a deep breath. "I too am having trouble adjusting to civilized life. I understand you left the war much sooner than I did."

"You were in Spain?" Remus inquired curiously, despite himself. He was astonished to see Snape's eyes dart away when he answered.

"Yes, you could say that." Those fathomless eyes returned to Remus' face. Remus found he could not remove his gaze from those depths. Something haunted lurked there. Something that closely resembled that which lurked in Remus' eyes everytime he looked in the mirror. "I feel we have much in common deep down. I just-"

"Remus!" Sirius' impatient voice broke through Snape's low tone. 

Remus found himself slightly angry at Sirius' interruption, for all that he'd been trying to flee from Snape only moments before. "In a moment, Sirius!" He turned back to Snape. "Yes?"

"Perhaps this is better left said tomorrow." Snape nodded at him, turned on his heel and sauntered back into the Bliss home.

Remus regarded his departing figure a moment, admiring the hug of Snape's austere black trousers on slim hips, before turning to Sirius. "Where's James?" he asked, joining Sirius in the carriage.

"Getting a ride with the Evans ladies," Sirius replied, shooting Remus a curious look. "Making a new friend?"

Remus found himself smiling slightly. "Perhaps," was all he would say. "Let me buy you a drink. After what we've endured tonight, we deserve it." Sirius agreed with a laugh but Remus knew his friend's curiosity regarding Snape had not been forgotten, only diverted. The problem was Remus wasn't certain how to answer any questions Sirius might pose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES: For those curious about some of the lesser known composers listed above: Paganini and Scarlatti. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Johann Sebastian Bach, Franz Joseph Haydn and Franz Schubert should be somewhat recognizable to anyone who suffered through any sort of music program in school.  
Gas lights were indeed in London this early. More stereotyped as being a Victorian technology, gas lighting was used in private residences and streets in England as early as 1792 in Cornwall. Pallmall was lit by January of 1807 and the Westminster Bridge was entirely gas lit by 1813. Most private gas lighting at residences and the like were paid for by the owners, but the Gas Light and Coke Company granted charter in Parliament in 1812 began making public inroads in gas lighting London. So as you can see, gas lighting at the Bliss home was entirely feasible.


	3. Chapter 3

Brooks's was a gentleman's club on St. James Street, one that catered to the Whigs of Parliament. Remus found himself more comfortable among the more liberal Whigs than the stuffier Tories at White's. He was surprised, however, that Severus not only had membership at Brooks's, which was rather particular in it's membership, but knew the doorman by name.

"Good afternoon, Holland," greeted Severus, shrugging out of his coat to hand to the coat check.

"Good afternoon, Sir Snape. Your usual table, sir?" Holland's nose possibly couldn't get further in the air. If it'd been raining indoors, Remus was certain the man would drown. Severus nodded and smiled at Remus before leading the way.

Once the two of them settled in, Remus leaned back and took in the atmosphere. He didn't have the familial clout to get membership into either White's or Brooks's. Though the heir to a barony, it was a bankrupt title with little hope of recouping past fortune and no longer held a post in the House of Lords. His father was more interested in the latest scientific treatises than in the stock market or Parliamentary proceedings in either case. Remus was more interested in literature and history. The odds of Remus maintaining the family line was slim as well.

"I'm sorry," Remus apologized, when he noted Snape's inquiring gaze as the brunette looked around with interest. "I've never been in here before."

"Really?" Severus flicked absently at his napkin. "I shall have to recommend you then. Where are your memberships?"

"The Society and Boodle's, but only because my father has membership." 

Severus nodded. "Ah yes, your father is a baron."

Remus nodded. "Yes but low on fortune. We do well enough to get by. I," he looked a bit abashed, "do some writing to ease my own personal expenses."

Snape looked genuinely interested. "Writing? Nothing like Byron, I hope. Man is too melodramatic for my tastes."

Remus laughed. "No, though I did enjoy his Childe Harolde and Ozymandias."

"I hate to correct you, Lupin, but Shellye wrote Ozymandias," Snape chuckled.

"Oh." Remus shrugged. "I enjoyed it all the same."

"So you're a poet, like everyone else in Society at the moment?" Severus nodded to the head waiter who rushed to serve them. "The usual, Stevens, for us both and a bottle of white wine please. Whatever you recommend will be sufficient."

Remus watched with some anxiety as the waiter rushed to do Snape's bidding. "Wine?"

Snape shrugged. "I'm not overly fond of brandy. I'd prefer whiskey but even noon is a bit early for me to imbibe."

"Ah." Remus tugged at his cravat as those black eyes bored holes into him. "Well, in regards to your question, no, I don't write poetry or narrative. I'm writing a history, you could say, or perhaps a treatise on British folklore."

Something in those black eyes sparked and Snape leaned forward with interest. "Really? Mythology, still existing pagan customs, that sort of thing?"

Remus nodded. "Yes. I've already had a couple of pieces published in the Society of British Folklore and Customs review to some acclaim. It concentrated on the Lake District and Cornwall, specifically. I compared the two different areas as a contrast. It was quite well received," he added again, with a touch of pride.

"I shall have to look it up then. Dorset, after all, is not that far from Cornwall. Just two counties away, in fact. Perhaps I'll see some similarities." Snape's fingers started tapping a staccato tempo on the table. "Lupin," he started and then stopped, chewing on his thin lower lip. Remus stared at the other man's mouth in rapt fascination, unable to stop himself. 

Remus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as his trousers had just gotten a bit snug. "You wanted to talk about acclimating into society?" he prompted, thinking that the subject was the reason for Snape's discomfort.

Those black eyes flicked back to him and Remus almost groaned. Those orbs were fathomless like a clouded night. Not even a glimmer of light reflected in their depths. If Snape knew how attracted Remus was to the mysterious, like those eyes, he'd probably run screaming in the other direction.

"Actually, I hoped that perhaps you could recommend," Snape coughed and lowered his tone, "some places to scratch an itch."

Remus' brow furrowed in confusion. Was Snape asking him for brothels? "I beg your pardon?"

The black haired man sighed, slightly put out, as if Remus were being particularly dense. "I hope we can keep this in confidence, but I have heard the rumors concerning you." Remus stiffened, affronted. "And I was wondering if you-"

"You presume much! They are rumors," snapped Remus, his voice also low.

"Are they?" purred Snape and Remus had to shift in his chair once more as the vibration of the man's voice and the images they brought to mind struck Remus forcefully. "It does take one to know one, Lupin. And I am taking a risk in merely asking and inferring these things to you. Why would I do so if I had not judged you my equal?"

Remus opened his mouth, could think of no polite rebuke for such a public setting, and snapped his mouth closed once more. The head waiter set down two wine glasses and the bottle before pouring, bowing and walking away once more. Remus downed half the glass as he tried to think. "Sir Snape," he began.

"Severus, please," Severus said with a silkly tone. "May I call you...Remus?" The hesitation followed by that smooth voice saying his name almost made Remus dizzy. He could not believe how attractive he found Snape. While not exactly handsome in the manner of Sirius or James, Snape had his own features. The nose detracted somewhat from those features but everyone had a fault or two.

"Er, yes," Remus said, taking another gulp of wine. His head spun again, this time from wine on an empty stomach. "Severus," he tried again, "I-" He stopped. "We shouldn't talk about this even here."

"Perhaps at a more discreet location," agreed Severus, sipping his own wine with a knowing twitch of his lips. "Very well, a safer topic then, to get to know one another. Do you still suffer nightmares?"

Taken aback, Remus choked on his wine. "What?"

"Nightmares. Any soldier who served at places like Cadiz and Salamanca had to have had nightmares with all that bloodshed and death." Snape's face was once more merely inquiringly polite, as if he'd not asked such a personal question.

"No, not anymore," Remus admitted. "They were almost nightly for the longest time, but strangely when Boney was defeated and Paris taken, they continued. We all thought the war with France was finished, but I still had them."

"And now that Napoleon is safely ensconced on Elba?"

"Very few and far between," Remus said thoughtfully. "It is almost as if I know that it might truly be over."

"How long were you on the Peninsula?" asked Severus curiously, leaning back as his plate of braised mutton was settled before him.

Remus shook his head and smiled at the waiter as his own plate was set before him. "I received various wounds and was sent home finally. It was a long recuperation, staying with my father until I went berserk from being in the quiet of the country and his infernal whirring machines." He ate a few bites, thinking. "I came to London to stay with James. He was injured in Portugal, managed to get by with a bayonet stab." Remus shook his head. "Damned blind luck that's all he got."

Severus didn't respond, but chewed thoughtfully, watching Remus with unfathomable eyes. Remus cleared his throat and ate. It was a companionable silence, but Remus found himself burning with curiosity about Snape. "You were on the Continent as well?" he prompted finally.

"Yes." 

Remus waited a long minute before he realized Severus wasn't going to expound. "Oh. To whom were you assigned?"

"Wellington." Severus sighed at Remus open expression of interest. Normally a clipped answered forbore others from asking further. Remus was obviously not one of those people. "Glorified messenger boy, in all honesty."

Remus shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that. Communication during such times is vital."

Severus' features tensed a moment and then relaxed. "Yes, it is. Especially code-breaking them," he added almost to himself.

Remus looked up from his vegetables. "Code breaking? Did you do that too?"

"Some," Severus admitted. He dare not say more. 

Intelligence officers were still considered of questionable honor. Serving behind enemy lines, assassination and other forms of espionage held little honorable value to the upright officers and soldiers who faced down canons, no matter how vital a service men like Severus maintained. The misguided ideals of honor and glory were more important to many than actual survival and winning the war. Severus as yet could not ascertain which category of soldier Remus Lupin fell into. Would Lupin understand the necessity of Severus' life behind enemy lines or would he be outraged that Severus had not faced down the enemy as he had done for many years in Portuagal and Spain?

They continued to talk of life on the continent, their hobbies and other subjects of the 'get to know one another' variety. Remus learned a little about Snape's friendship with Lily Evans, while Severus learned about Remus' father's obsession with sciences like electricity machines. The more the two men talked the more aware they became of each other. Severus realized with each passing moment that he liked Lupin and enjoyed his company more than anyone else he'd met so far, even his old friend Malfoy. It didn't help that he'd felt a stirring in his loins for the other man as well. 

When they could no longer put off leaving, the two men stood and headed toward the door. Severus had placed the meal on his tab, which Remus felt slightly guilty about but reasoned Snape had asked him here without seeming expectation of payment for Remus' portion of the bill. While pulling on their coats, gloves and hats, a group of boisterous young men sauntered in, chortling over some joke. There were a couple of hoots when the group spotted Remus. To Remus' horror, Peter Pettigrew was among them.

"Oh dear," he muttered. Severus turned to see what disturbed his companion and his eyes widened a fraction. For a moment Remus feared that Severus was alarmed at being seen with him before realizing Snape just had lunch with him at the Whig stronghold. If he was worried about his reputation with being seeing publicly with a rumored homosexual, it was a bit late.

Snape's lips twitched once, then twice, as his black gaze stared straight at Pettigrew. The thinner man then turned to Remus, leaned forward and whispered," Follow my lead." His hand holding his beaver hat came up while the other cupped around his mouth, effectively blocking any view or carrying of sound as Snape began to whisper in Remus' ear. "Laugh, chuckle, smirk at Pettigrew, whatever you like, but make sure it seems as if we are laughing at him."

Remus started to reply but was stopped cold when a feathery, yet tantalizing swipe of Severus' tongue brushed his ear. Teeth briefly tugged on his earlobe before letting go. Remus felt his face grow a bit warm but he managed a nervous chuckle. The ridiculousness of the situation struck him then and he laughed a bit harder, staring at Pettigrew, defiantly facing his detractor down. Snape joined in, his own laugh mocking. Pettigrew's face flushed as his cronies turned to look first at them, then at Peter.

"What's so funny?" one of them demanded.

Severus jauntily placed his hat on his head and settled his coat more firmly about his frame. "An amusing jest only, an inside joke. You wouldn't get it." He smirked once more at Pettigrew, who paled, and then sauntered out the door. Remus nodded, grinned and followed his new friend out. Once settled into the seats of Snape's elegant carriage, he growled, "Idiots."

Remus grinned, he couldn't help it. "Brilliant tactics. They'll wonder what we know about Pettigrew that could be so amusing."

"That was the point."

Remus sobered. "Thank you. My friends have been doing their best in controlling the rumors, but you know how it is."

"Scandals have their own life in Town," Severus replied dismissively. He knocked on the roof of the carriage and spoke loud enough for the driver to hear. "To the Heywood Apartments, Charles." The carriage jerked into motion. 

When they arrived at Remus' apartment building, the fine black horses' hooves clattering on the cobblestone, Severus gave Remus a half-lidded look. "Any objections if I come up? I'm thinking of changing leases."

Remus didn't buy the explanation for a second but agreed nonetheless. He was curious whether Severus would follow up on the playful happenings at Brooks's.

"Charles, go on home. I'll catch a hackney once I'm finished. Remember I have the Malfoy soiree tonight. Have the coach around at eight." Severus swung his cane lazily as the landau drove away before turning to Remus. "Shall we?"

Remus nodded, his stomach clenching. Was it him or was it getting warm? He ignored the sensation of growing aroused as he explained how the apartments were set up, introduced Severus to the guard at the door of the apartments, and took his companion upstairs. "They aren't large and are affordable on my slender budget," he finished as he swung open the door and gestured Severus in first.

Severus was shrugging off his coat, hat sailing toward the settee, even as he turned to face Remus squarely. "Was there offense taken at Brooks's?"

Remus considered the other man. "No," he answered, shaking his head.

The smile Severus gave was distinctly predatory. "Excellent." In two steps, Severus closed the distance between them, banged the door shut behind Remus, and their mouths were slanting to gain better access to the open-mouthed kiss. "You are a very desirable man," Severus murmured, pulling Remus' coat off. Remus tossed his hat on the floor.

"You're not half bad yourself," Remus rejoined with a grin. 

"We won't have time for all the enjoyment we could get out of this," Severus murmured, tugging off Remus' cravat as he nibbled his way down the column of Remus' throat. "But, unless you have objections, I have a feeling we'll have more time in the future."

"Um," was all Remus could get out. He was too busy trying to open Severus' fly. He wanted, no, needed to feel Severus' cock in his hand now. The heat he'd been feeling all afternoon was radiating off his companion as well.

"Eager are we?" Severus' tone was amused but tense with desire as well. Remus shut him up with a deep kiss that left them both weak-kneed. 

Remus felt his own trousers unbuttoned, felt Severus' long fingers pull him out and fondle. Remus pushed the other man backward, hitting the wall with a thump as the two of them stroked each other, moaning into their kisses and attempting to remain upright as the waves of desire and attraction pulled them below the surface of reality.

Severus felt the tension of his orgasm building. Panting he pulled away from his lover's intoxicating mouth and gasped as the tension continued to mount. Never had he felt so unrestrained. Never had he felt such lack of control. Never had he felt such attraction. Remus Lupin was dangerous but at the moment Severus just couldn't bring himself to care. 

"It's been so long," he panted in a whisper. "Please..." He pushed his finger into the slit at the top of Remus' own protruding member, causing the other man to gasp passionately. In a moment, Remus' hips began to jerk uncontrollably and his low moans of release sent Severus over the edge himself. Their knees finally gave way and Severus slid onto the floor, Remus on top of him.

They were silent until they regained some semblance of control, lying next to each other on the hard wood floor and slightly ragged Persian carpet. Remus' right hand found Severus' left and they lay there, fingers entwined. After another few moments, Remus rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. "May I say that was stupendous?"

Severus felt his lips curl in satisfaction. "It will do for a preliminary. Just gives us a sample of so much more to come."

"Mmm," was all Remus would reply, leaning down for a brief kiss once more. "I, unfortunately, cannot explore more than this today. It's almost four and I promised Sirius that I would go to Tattersall's this afternoon."

"A shame," agreed Severus. He also had a previous engagement. Lily had sent round a note that morning, stating she had the perfect way to humiliate her childhood friend with his wager loss. Severus almost dreaded what she'd come up with. Something pink and frothy, no doubt.

They stood up, adjusted themselves. A wash towel slightly dampened cleaned up their ejaculation, if not perfectly, then adequately enough that it wasn't obvious as to the source of the stain. Another kiss was shared before Severus departed. Remus watched as his new lover hailed a hackney, glanced up at Remus' form in the window with a sly smile and departed. Humming Remus freshened himself and left to join Sirius at the horse market.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE: There previously was a lot more information on Remus' activities during the British and Spanish, Portuguese battles against Napoleon (called the Peninsular War) but it got repeated in a later chapter and I liked that it fit there better than here. I think it's also more in keeping, the two men are still learning about each other, and battles won and wounds received are a very touchy subject, even for someone who shared in a similar experience. But rest assured there will be more of Remus and Severus' roles later in the story. :)
> 
> The 'rivalry' of Brook's and White's was more like armed political camps between the Whig party and Tories. Brook's started out as a simple gentleman's club, created in 1764, ideally as a place for the Whigs to meet, socialize and scheme. If Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, could have entered it's hallowed gentleman only walls, she would have, being a huge Whig supporter. White's began in 1693 as a hot chocolate house, at the time a very expensive and exclusive drink, that was also a 'gentleman's club' of the worst sort. It became a gambling house, and many readers of Regency era books, will recognize White's infamous betting book and the club's accompanying restaurant, Watiers, created because the food was so boring and deplorable, some Whigs might have said much like the Tories themselves. Both clubs, and many other gentleman's clubs, such as Boodles (more famous for being in almost every piece of literature from Charles Dickens to Oscar Wilde and later mentioned in James Bond) all resided on St. James Street, Pallmall, London. No lady of decent breeding would have been seen walking through the myriad of rakehells, lechers, gamblers and the occasional respectable man *grin* on St. James St.


	4. Chapter 4

Sirius was immediately suspicious, Remus could tell. It wasn't the slanting, curious glances the black-haired man sent his way. It wasn't the occasional comment regarding 'sexual exploits" intending to lead on to normal male banter regarding their performance in the bedroom. It was the copious dropping of words like 'unsavory characters with black hair', 'Lily's friend, the man with the prodigious nose', and, more bluntly, 'that suspicious character, I don't like him by the way' that clued Remus in. By the time their outing was done, Sirius was out enough money for two horses and Remus a boatload of patience. It was the first time Remus was actually pleased to see the back of Sirius Black. He was thankful that he had no dinner parties, soirees, or musicales to attend that evening. A good book and private thoughts were what he intended on indulging in that night.

Severus, however, was not quite so fortunate.

As expected, Miss Lily Evans was bubbling with enthusiastic plans on Severus' humiliating foray into paying off his gaming debts. It was quickly apparent (gown not withstanding) that Lily intended the entire exercise to be a 'lesson' for her dear old friend not to gamble. Severus was beginning to fear Lily was tending toward Methodism by the afternoon's end.

"Green is definitely your color, Severus," chirped Lily, most enthusiastically as she held up various material swatches next to his cheek to decide on which one was 'just right'.

"Lily," he groaned and then slanted a quick glance at the half closed door. Propriety demanded the door not be closed, lest the two engage in untoward activities. Not that Severus had any inclination to Lily in that way. She was the annoying sister from his childhood, not a potential life partner. He didn't anticipate a life partner, not with his sexual inclinations but a face framed by honey brown hair with cheerful amber eyes often swam into his mental view when thoughts of romance entered his brain.

Severus' life had been lonely during the fight against Napoleon. He rarely had the chance to make friends, and the ones he did make were killed either in battle or a skirmish escaping with needed intelligence to give to Wellington and his staff of generals. His one comfort was that Lily could be trusted with his utmost secrets and still could despite being engaged to a stick like James Potter.

Neither Petunia nor Mrs. Evans knew that Lily was privy to Severus' activities during the war. In fact, only Lily and Severus' immediate supervisor within White Hall, Lord Albus Dumbledore knew the truth, in all its sordid detail. Which, Severus reflected later that evening, was probably why Lily slipped him a note before he left that afternoon.

> Severus,
> 
> I realize you probably know what undergarments you need. In your former occupation, you may have needed the information. But just in case, here's a list.
> 
> Teasingly, but ever your friend,
> 
> Lily

The wench.

Next he went back to his own bachelor apartments, not as nice as Lupin's but still imminently suitable, only to discover a calling card left by "Lord James Potter". He sighed and mentally consigned Potter to Hell as he changed for the evening. A message from Lucius was also sitting on the table with Potter's card, imperiously inviting him to a rather risque masque, guaranteed to have some of the most popular, and expensive, Cyprians in attendance. He hated Covent Gardens but knew he had to do the pretty and put on a show of chasing the skirts. He was single and a war hero, after all.

He consigned Bonaparte to the same Hell as Potter.

As Severus entered the rather run-down building the masquerade was being held in, he adjusted his mask and tugged at the domino draped over his shoulders and back. He hated capes. They were constricting and choked him. It was not difficult to find Lucius, who already looked three sheets to the wind and hanging on the most obnoxious looking red-head Severus had ever seen.

"There you are!" hiccuped Lucius joyfully, throwing a companionable arm around Severus' shoulders while the red-head batted her lashes at a passing gentleman.

"Under protest, but here I am," agreed Severus, snagging a glass of champagne off a tray held by a passing footman in gaudy orange livery. "Where do you find these parties, Malfoy?" 

Lucius chuckled drunkenly. "It's a gift."

"If you want to call it that."

Lucius shoved the red-head away and she obligingly followed the man she'd been leering at. Severus dispassionately noted she was drunker than Malfoy, which was why she probably wasn't offended. "You're in a right mood tonight," Lucius frowned, peering into Severus' masked face, his own mask askew.

Severus righted Malfoy's mask and patted his cheek congenially. "You're an idiot, a drunk idiot, I might add, and you know I hate these things."

"True," nodded Lucius with drunken wisdom, "but you came because you're a good friend."

Severus sipped his champagne before adding, "And a fool."

Lucius grinned. "Quite possibly." He waved an unsteady hand as he lurched to his feet. Severus steadied him a moment before letting the man weave about on his own. "You are a good friend, Severus," Lucius repeated and Severus sighed. He put on a cravat and starched collar for this?

"I should hope so. I'm allowing you to paw all over my expensive clothes that, if my valet cannot get out that odd stain you just put on my jacket, you'll be replacing." There was the horrid sound of retching behind a large potted plant the two were passing as Lucius led the way to a set of double doors undoubtedly leading to a balcony. Severus grimaced. "Lovely," he commented.

"Don't drink the wine," advised Lucius with a shudder.

"Is that what you had?" asked Severus with a grin.

"No, whiskey."

"Hmm." If Lucius Malfoy was drinking whiskey then Severus knew there was going to be a problem very shortly. "What have you done?"

"Me?" Lucius looked outraged as he fumbled with the balcony door's handle. Severus reached over and twisted, the door swinging open in time for Lucius to stumble through. "I have done nothing. You, however, haven't done anything, which is the problem."

Severus attempted to follow the drunken logic, but gave up. "I see."

Lucius peered at him in the gloom, sensing the sarcasm. "No, you don't."

Severus emptied the rest of his mediocre champagne over the balcony railing. "You're right, I don't. Enlighten me."

"Not here!" hissed Lucius, looking around in a furtive movement. Severus sighed. It was a damned good thing Malfoy had not been a spy during the war. Either Britain would have lost or Malfoy would have been dead. Or both. "We must talk privately."

"You called me here to tell me we have to speak privately?" Severus was incredulous. "When did you start drinking that whiskey, Lucius? This morning?"

Lucius blinked stupidly at Severus for a moment and then shook his head, rather like a dog, and then grunted. "No, I called you here to talk me out of something."

Severus sighed. "Very well. What?"

"What?"

"Yes, what?"

Lucius frowned. "I hate whiskey. I can never think straight."

Severus felt his patience slip. "Lucius." He drew his friend's name out in a warning tone.

"I'm going to propose to Narcissa Black tomorrow." Lucius looked petrified.

"I hope you'll be sober," remarked Severus, inwardly chuckling at his own wit, which obviously was lost on Lucius.

"Well, of course I'll be sober!" the blond replied indignantly.

"Will she say yes then?"

Lucius hiccuped. "God I hope so," he gushed in drunken truthfulness. Severus couldn't help but laugh. "I want you to stand up with me, old man." Severus' laughter died away and he stared in shock at the blond man still weaving slightly in place. "I wouldn't be able to be with her if it weren't for you."

"I-" Severus stopped. He could think of nothing to say except, "I would be honored, old friend." They shook hands and Lucius allowed Severus to badger him into a carriage so Lord Malfoy could sober up for his important meeting with the intimidating Miss Narcissa Black.


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius was immediately suspicious, Remus could tell. It wasn't the slanting, curious glances the black-haired man sent his way. It wasn't the occasional comment regarding 'sexual exploits" intending to lead on to normal male banter regarding their performance in the bedroom. It was the copious dropping of words like 'unsavory characters with black hair', 'Lily's friend, the man with the prodigious nose', and, more bluntly, 'that suspicious character, I don't like him by the way' that clued Remus in. By the time their outing was done, Sirius was out enough money for two horses and Remus a boatload of patience. It was the first time Remus was actually pleased to see the back of Sirius Black. He was thankful that he had no dinner parties, soirees, or musicales to attend that evening. A good book and private thoughts were what he intended on indulging in that night.

Severus, however, was not quite so fortunate.

As expected, Miss Lily Evans was bubbling with enthusiastic plans on Severus' humiliating foray into paying off his gaming debts. It was quickly apparent (gown not withstanding) that Lily intended the entire exercise to be a 'lesson' for her dear old friend not to gamble. Severus was beginning to fear Lily was tending toward Methodism by the afternoon's end.

"Green is definitely your color, Severus," chirped Lily, most enthusiastically as she held up various material swatches next to his cheek to decide on which one was 'just right'.

"Lily," he groaned and then slanted a quick glance at the half closed door. Propriety demanded the door not be closed, lest the two engage in untoward activities. Not that Severus had any inclination to Lily in that way. She was the annoying sister from his childhood, not a potential life partner. He didn't anticipate a life partner, not with his sexual inclinations but a face framed by honey brown hair with cheerful amber eyes often swam into his mental view when thoughts of romance entered his brain.

Severus' life had been lonely during the fight against Napoleon. He rarely had the chance to make friends, and the ones he did make were killed either in battle or a skirmish escaping with needed intelligence to give to Wellington and his staff of generals. His one comfort was that Lily could be trusted with his utmost secrets and still could despite being engaged to a stick like James Potter.

Neither Petunia nor Mrs. Evans knew that Lily was privy to Severus' activities during the war. In fact, only Lily and Severus' immediate supervisor within White Hall, Lord Albus Dumbledore knew the truth, in all its sordid detail. Which, Severus reflected later that evening, was probably why Lily slipped him a note before he left that afternoon.

> Severus,
> 
> I realize you probably know what undergarments you need. In your former occupation, you may have needed the information. But just in case, here's a list.
> 
> Teasingly, but ever your friend,
> 
> Lily

The wench.

Next he went back to his own bachelor apartments, not as nice as Lupin's but still imminently suitable, only to discover a calling card left by "Lord James Potter". He sighed and mentally consigned Potter to Hell as he changed for the evening. A message from Lucius was also sitting on the table with Potter's card, imperiously inviting him to a rather risque masque, guaranteed to have some of the most popular, and expensive, Cyprians in attendance. He hated Covent Gardens but knew he had to do the pretty and put on a show of chasing the skirts. He was single and a war hero, after all.

He consigned Bonaparte to the same Hell as Potter.

As Severus entered the rather run-down building the masquerade was being held in, he adjusted his mask and tugged at the domino draped over his shoulders and back. He hated capes. They were constricting and choked him. It was not difficult to find Lucius, who already looked three sheets to the wind and hanging on the most obnoxious looking red-head Severus had ever seen.

"There you are!" hiccuped Lucius joyfully, throwing a companionable arm around Severus' shoulders while the red-head batted her lashes at a passing gentleman.

"Under protest, but here I am," agreed Severus, snagging a glass of champagne off a tray held by a passing footman in gaudy orange livery. "Where do you find these parties, Malfoy?" 

Lucius chuckled drunkenly. "It's a gift."

"If you want to call it that."

Lucius shoved the red-head away and she obligingly followed the man she'd been leering at. Severus dispassionately noted she was drunker than Malfoy, which was why she probably wasn't offended. "You're in a right mood tonight," Lucius frowned, peering into Severus' masked face, his own mask askew.

Severus righted Malfoy's mask and patted his cheek congenially. "You're an idiot, a drunk idiot, I might add, and you know I hate these things."

"True," nodded Lucius with drunken wisdom, "but you came because you're a good friend."

Severus sipped his champagne before adding, "And a fool."

Lucius grinned. "Quite possibly." He waved an unsteady hand as he lurched to his feet. Severus steadied him a moment before letting the man weave about on his own. "You are a good friend, Severus," Lucius repeated and Severus sighed. He put on a cravat and starched collar for this?

"I should hope so. I'm allowing you to paw all over my expensive clothes that, if my valet cannot get out that odd stain you just put on my jacket, you'll be replacing." There was the horrid sound of retching behind a large potted plant the two were passing as Lucius led the way to a set of double doors undoubtedly leading to a balcony. Severus grimaced. "Lovely," he commented.

"Don't drink the wine," advised Lucius with a shudder.

"Is that what you had?" asked Severus with a grin.

"No, whiskey."

"Hmm." If Lucius Malfoy was drinking whiskey then Severus knew there was going to be a problem very shortly. "What have you done?"

"Me?" Lucius looked outraged as he fumbled with the balcony door's handle. Severus reached over and twisted, the door swinging open in time for Lucius to stumble through. "I have done nothing. You, however, haven't done anything, which is the problem."

Severus attempted to follow the drunken logic, but gave up. "I see."

Lucius peered at him in the gloom, sensing the sarcasm. "No, you don't."

Severus emptied the rest of his mediocre champagne over the balcony railing. "You're right, I don't. Enlighten me."

"Not here!" hissed Lucius, looking around in a furtive movement. Severus sighed. It was a damned good thing Malfoy had not been a spy during the war. Either Britain would have lost or Malfoy would have been dead. Or both. "We must talk privately."

"You called me here to tell me we have to speak privately?" Severus was incredulous. "When did you start drinking that whiskey, Lucius? This morning?"

Lucius blinked stupidly at Severus for a moment and then shook his head, rather like a dog, and then grunted. "No, I called you here to talk me out of something."

Severus sighed. "Very well. What?"

"What?"

"Yes, what?"

Lucius frowned. "I hate whiskey. I can never think straight."

Severus felt his patience slip. "Lucius." He drew his friend's name out in a warning tone.

"I'm going to propose to Narcissa Black tomorrow." Lucius looked petrified.

"I hope you'll be sober," remarked Severus, inwardly chuckling at his own wit, which obviously was lost on Lucius.

"Well, of course I'll be sober!" the blond replied indignantly.

"Will she say yes then?"

Lucius hiccuped. "God I hope so," he gushed in drunken truthfulness. Severus couldn't help but laugh. "I want you to stand up with me, old man." Severus' laughter died away and he stared in shock at the blond man still weaving slightly in place. "I wouldn't be able to be with her if it weren't for you."

"I-" Severus stopped. He could think of nothing to say except, "I would be honored, old friend." They shook hands and Lucius allowed Severus to badger him into a carriage so Lord Malfoy could sober up for his important meeting with the intimidating Miss Narcissa Black.


	6. Chapter 6

The days passed rather blandly, a dizzying array of parties, soirees, balls, musicales and the occasional evening at Vauxhall or the theater. Edmund Kean was in fine form, per the gossips, which meant not only was the actor's performance on stage worthwhile but his drunken temper tantrums were fodder for entertainment off-stage as well. Sirius was chasing a pretty bit of muslin named Lucy, a dancer in the latest Rossini opera, who was more looks than talent apparently. The Season had not begun, as it began roughly when Parliament opened and everyone came from the country after Easter, but it was busy enough. The weather was the true draw to the capital. It was growing successively colder and speculation was ripe that perhaps the Thames might thaw over.

James was following Lily around like a trained hound but still up for an evening of gambling at the club or an occasional drunken round of camaraderie at someone's flat. Remus found himself waiting for the brief opportunities to meet up with Sir Severus Snape.

They managed to meet twice, once more in Remus' flat and once in Severus' for some more groping but they had never engaged in actual sex. The taboo was still too ingrained in Remus, though Severus seemed to have no squeamish sensibilities. Perhaps his time as a spy, always with uncertainty looming in his future, hardened the other man against worrying with what concerned the rest of the world's moral self-righteous. Remus on the other could do nothing but worry. The penalty if actually convicted as a sodomite was extreme and Remus had no intention of disgracing what remained of his family by his indiscretions and a hangman's noose.

The Christmas season was in full swing, with bright gaiety and sparkling charm before everyone adjourned to the country until after the New Year. While neither Remus nor Severus were upper class per se, both being mere sons of a baron and squire respectively, they were both well connected enough to be invited to many of the same events. Remus found himself pursued by a couple of young women who set their caps for him but their mamas were a bit more wary. While the scandal of Remus' sexual proclivities blew over thanks to the machinations of James, Sirius and Severus, as well as the eminently respectable Evans women, it still lingered in the back of many an old bat's mind. While Remus enjoyed dancing and laughing with the young ladies, he had no designs upon their virtues. As his reputation as someone willing to dance with anyone and his mild personality spread, he became more sought after by various hostesses. 

Remus didn't seem to care if a young lady stammered, was clumsy, or not in the current stare of fashion. He chatted with them, drew them from their reticence, bolstered confidences, guided them through dances without complaining when his boots were trod on and fetched lemonade or orgeat as needed. Severus would dance on occasion, usually with Lily and more sufferingly with her sister Petunia and perhaps his friend Malfoy's newly affianced Narcissa Black. Usually he spent his time keeping an eye on Remus.

For a soldier wounded in action, the man moved with surprising grace. And for a man who favored other men, Remus was very at ease with women, especially those wallflowers or shy spinsters who rarely saw the dance floor. At one ball in a garishly overdone ballroom of some earl and his countess whose name Severus already dismissed as unimportant, Severus watched Remus revolve around the room in the scandalous waltz with a painfully shy young woman recently given permission to dance the dance by the Almack's matrons.

Severus felt his chest tighten when Remus' eyes briefly met his and the other man smiled. Remus was intelligent, well-read, thoughtful, not a hot-head like his friends and seemed to understand how the world actually worked instead of how he wished it would work. They both were careful with their tentative affair but Severus felt the apex approaching soon. It would have to or Severus' erotic dreams of Remus Lupin in his arms was going to drive him insane one night.

Once the dance finished and Remus delivered the young lady to her doting mama, he strolled casually to where he knew Severus waited for him. "Good evening," he greeted cordially, slanting a surreptitious glance up and down Severus' person. "I could never manage that knot."

The other man was decked out in the fashion leader Beau Brummell's requisite subdued attire, austere and crisp, from his elegant black trousers and evening shoes to the perfectly tied Gordian knot in his cravat. Though many men followed the Beau's fashion advice few could pull it off with a look of comfort that Severus could. Severus was not bulky in muscle but he was still attractive to Remus' eyes.

"I've about had enough of this entertainment," Severus told him with a flash of a wicked grin. "I'm considering more rousing entertainment. Care to join me?"

Remus understood the innuendo well-enough and returned the smile with pleasure. "I can ditch James and Sirius tonight, yes. I had no inclination to play cards anyway."

Severus' black eyes gleamed. "A shame, for cards were what I had in mind."

"Perhaps a change in company will make it more entertaining then. Bear in mind," he added for anyone listening in, "I don't play deep."

"Oh, the stakes are more than reasonable," Severus assured him. "We should say our proper farewells and be gone, then. I'll meet you at your apartments." 

Remus nodded with some eagerness and scanned the room for James or Sirius. He found Sirius first, to his dismay. Sirius would not be put off with a paltry excuse in not joining in the later revelry at some gaming hell. He came up to stand next to Sirius, who was doing the pretty with one of his female cousins, Remus couldn't remember the chit's name.

"Good evening, Mister Lupin," greeted the girl warily. Remus bowed with a polite smile. "I see Mama, Sirius. Behave, Black Sheep," she admonished her cousin fondly.

"Baaa," Sirius bleeted cheerily as his cousin headed with some reluctance to her rather stern looking mother.

"Which one is that again?" Remus asked, brow furrowed.

"Andromeda." Sirius chuckled as the girl scowled at a rather enthusiastic beau who waylaid her, giving him a proper setdown for his lack of manners.

"Ah, yes," Remus remembered. "The one you actually like."

"She's not a snob like the rest," Sirius agreed. "You ready to find James and get out of here?"

"You two go ahead. I'm going home." Remus tensed when Sirius' eyes flashed immediately to Severus, who was bowing over Lady Evans' hand and saying good bye to the lovely Lily. "I have a book to finish, Sirius," he admonished, "for publication in two months. I'm behind because I've been out with you lot almost every night."

Sirius' eyes were knowing when they turned to him but Remus refused to give way. "Okay," Sirius agreed. "Don't turn all priggish on us, though, all right?" He slapped Remus companionably on the back in an amiable farewell before heading to where James was beelining straight for Lily with a scowl on his face.

Remus suppressed a grin at the look on James' face. He was jealous of Lily's friendship with Severus, almost irrationally. It was exasperating to both Lily and Severus but Remus and Sirius found it highly amusing. One day Lily was going to have to talk to James and alleviate his fears, but it didn't look like tonight was that time.

Remus hailed a passing hackney since he came with James and Sirius and set it to his apartments, knowing Severus would join him shortly. The streets were a slushy mess and it took longer than he anticipated. Paying the cabbie the fare, Remus stepped off onto the curb and opened the latched gate to his apartment building. As he was closing the gate, Severus' carriage rolled up so Remus waited for Severus to get out. 

"Go on home, Charles. I don't know how long I'll be or where we're going next. I will get a hack." Severus' smooth baritone filtered to Remus' ears.

"Yessir," said Charles and as soon as the door closed behind Severus, the carriage lurched into motion and away.

"Your own equipage?" Remus asked, holding the gate open for Severus to step through.

"Hired only, don't get excited," Severus replied sardonically.

"No, it's just the same driver and I never have the same driver when I hire out," Remus grinned. 

They talked of inconsequential things as they traversed the stairway and corridor to Remus' suite of rented rooms. The tension was thick between them, however, and it was all Remus could do not to fidget with suppressed excitement. They were about to engage in an activity that could get them hanged, or at the very least, pilloried in front of a vicious mob. It was thrilling in it's forbiddenness, their sexual proclivities, but Remus knew that it was ignorant moral outrage rather than an actual unnaturalness regarding his sexual orientation that caused it. 

The door closed softly behind Severus and Remus began removing his outer clothing. Severus watched him with hooded lids for a moment and then did the same. "Brandy?" Remus asked. "Now that it's legal to have the good French, I find I don't feel so treasonous drinking it."

Severus only nodded. "How thin are the walls?" he finally asked, once he had his glass in hand and was standing next to the fireplace that Remus was stoking.

"Well, I can hear Belby and his mistress on occasion next door," admitted Remus, "but I guess everyone else in the building can as well."

Severus plucked Remus' brandy glass from his right hand and placed it with his own on the side table next to a rather worn armchair. Pulling Remus to standing, Severus slanted his mouth over Remus', thrusting his tongue into Remus' mouth, delving and probing. Remus surrendered immediately, moaning softly at the delicious intrusion.

When they broke for air a few moments later, Remus felt flush and was pleased to see that Severus was also. "We'll have to keep those delightful moans of yours low then," purred Severus, pulling on his cravat pin's latch. He tossed the item onto the table next to the brandy glasses and began tugging off his cravat and jacket. "I feel the urge to see you in firelight. I'll bet you are golden honey, just like you taste."

Remus swallowed. "Very poetical," he choked out as he too began removing his cravat, jacket and waistcoat. He hesitated at his breeches, though Severus apparently had no such modesty.

"You seemed the type that would like a few compliments," Severus replied, tossing his trousers in the pile with the rest of his clothes. Clad only in his unmentionables and stockings, his black eyes burning with some dark inner fire, Severus was a figure that made Remus' mouth go dry.

"Why do you say that?" he said hoarsely, fingers tangled in the folds of his shirt.

Severus cocked his head to one side, a cascade fall of midnight black hair brushing his shoulders. It was unfashionably long but Remus' fingers itched to bury themselves in those dark locks. "You may know what you want in your bed, but I think you've been very careful about who you bring to it. You've probably had very few lovers, wisely so. You're not naive but you aren't experienced either. You need a bit of wooing to relax you. I have no problem with that." He gave a full smile that showed slightly crooked teeth on the bottom. "In fact, I find it...arousing."

"Arousing?" Remus gasped as Severus pulled him in by his shirt . They were almost nose to nose, Severus only half an inch taller. 

"Very," the other man murmured, drawing Remus' free hand, the other still clutching his shirt convulsively, to his crotch. Remus instinctively grasped the protruding member and Severus' head tipped back unexpectedly, giving Remus access to his throat. Remus leaned over and began to nibble. "Yes," hissed Severus and Remus felt a rush of power.

They finished undressing each other and Remus found himself on his back on the thin rug in front of the fireplace. Severus snatched a throw pillow from the settee to help tip up Remus' hips. Careful not to arouse the suspicion of Remus' neighbors, they continued their foreplay, until Severus was slick and ready. Slowly, a bit at a time, he entered Remus, both of them gasping until Severus was to the hilt.

And then he started to move. Remus thought he was going to explode right there. His right hand fumbled for his own throbbing member while the other pulled Severus down for an open-mouthed, heated kiss. Their tongues tangled, neither feeling the fading chill of the room anymore, their own heat and the fireplace keeping them warm. 

Remus came first, his and Severus' fingers stroking and pulling him to completion. He threw his head back with a mighty groan that he couldn't help but when Severus followed behind him a few heartbeats later, the other man buried his face in Remus' arched neck, biting down hard to keep his own shout in control. A few instinctive quick pumps and Remus felt Severus' whole body deflate, the tension subsiding.

They panted until their hearts stopped hammering and Severus gently pulled out. They shared a secret smile and Remus rose to pad into room, grab his quilt and toss it over them both. Wrapped in each other's arms, they murmured nonsense for a moment and fell into a light doze.

Remus awoke an hour later to find Severus dressed with only his waistcoat and jacket missing. He was staring down at Remus with a pensive expression as his lover roused from slumber. "Penny for your thoughts?" teased Remus, stretching the kinks from his muscles. The floor wasn't all that comfortable.

"Spend Christmas with me at my home," Severus asked.

Remus blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"Well, yes, I just-" Remus paused. "I planned on being with my father that day but I can go to you after Christmas."

Severus' lips pursed peevishly but he nodded. "I understand. I just don't like sharing you," the dark-haired man confessed. "Now that I found you."

"Found me?" Remus was amused. "Was I lost?"

"To me you were." Severus picked up his brandy glass long since abandoned before their interlude on the floor and tossed back it's contents. "I find no shame in what I am, Remus, though others might and do, I'm certain. You've been to war. You know how precarious life is. God would not have made me the way I am if I served no purpose. The same applies to you."

Remus waited, shrugging into his own trousers and shirt to ward off the room's chill. He stoked the fire again and placed more coal on it as Severus continued. "I never fit in at school, ask Potter. My family life was not pleasant. My father was abusive and my mother was a mouse. Lily has been my only true friend. She knows me, understands me, and does not shun me for what I am." Severus' eyes were inscrutable as he gazed into Remus'. "Nor do you. I feel like we are kindred spirits and I will be damned to hell if I let you go. I have so few comforts in my life that I am loathe to let one slip away even for a moment."

"I do understand," Remus replied. "And I think the same of you similarly, though my friends do know and accept me for what I am, mostly," he amended. "We will have to remember what the law does to men like us, Severus, and act accordingly, but if, in a few months, our relations continue as they have, I have no problem pledging myself to you."

Severus relaxed and smiled. "Excellent, then I shall see you after Christmas at my home in Dorset?" He stood up and shrugged into the rest of his clothes. 

Remus stood as well, walking over to give his lover one last languid kiss. "Yes. I leave for Cornwall day after tomorrow."

Severus gave him a crooked smile and departed. Remus went to bed, hugging his pillow with a smile and lovestruck heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES: Somethings mentioned that might be of interest...  
EDMUND KEAN was an actor on Drury Lane, famous for his tantrums and eccentricities. It was said he had a pet lion that was given as a gift from a friend and rode his horse, Shylock, full tilt through the busy thoroughfares of London, very dangerous to do. Like many who achieved fame but was of 'lesser birth', he grew extravagant in his manners and his spending. He traveled Europe and America, tantalizing all with his masterful performances on and off the stage, sometimes getting himself into serious hot water.  
BEAU BRUMMEL is a name that should be familiar to anyone who has even the slightest interest in the Regency Era or costuming. He single-handedly dragged the men of the upper crust from knee britches to long pants and out of the garish colors and patterns and into the formal black and white evening attire that many men favor today. It was unfortunate that his own personal snobbery and inability to pay his debts (he had no meaningful employment other than fashion arbiter) was his ultimate demise. From the man who, with a single raised brow, could ruin someone's social career to dying penniless, indebted and insane in Caen, France on March 30, 1840 we can thank for saving us from god awful waistcoats and even more dreadful face paints and hair powders. Who knows how long that would have lasted in England? (wink) So important, though, was his influence on fashion, a statue of him in his typical understated style is memorialized on Jermyn St, London. Thank you, Mr. Brummel, even if you were rumored to call the Prince Regent 'fat'.  
COAL heating was indeed used in the Regency period, in fact, possibly as early as the 1400s. Wood became scarce as the centuries drew on, and thus, the more expensive, exclusive commodity. When harvested, wood was needed more for ships, buildings or furniture rather than burning for heat. Coal, however, is stereotyped like gaslighting as a Victorian convenience.


	7. Chapter 7

Lupin Hall was a small manor home of not too much ostentation settled in the windswept landscape of eastern Cornwall. Remus disliked the isolated location in his youth, being an only child and few children of his age nearby with which to play. As an adult he found it restful and quiet enough for his writing, much like his father. The two men celebrated the Christmas holiday with the few servants that were more family than servants, attended church service given by the good Reverend Jones and ate a small, amiable meal of goose and other tasty morsels.

They spoke of nothing personal, which was nothing unusual, but Remus squelched the urge to wax lyrical over his new friend, Sir Severus Snape, for fear that it would raise his father's suspicions, especially considering his father's occasional hints at a wedding and a grandchild in the future. While rumors of Remus' sexual proclivities had not reached Cornwall, his popularity with the London hostesses had and Remus ignored the hints of his starting a family and instead amused his father with anecdotes from various functions.

Christmas fell on a Sunday and so Boxing Day fell that following Monday. After giving the traditional gifts to their servants and sparse tenants alike, Remus and his father bid an amiable farewell after luncheon. Remus saddled up his bay gelding and rode northeast toward Dorset. His father seemed a little disappointed but understanding. His son had his own life and way to make.

Remus stopped for the night at a small inn outside of Exeter. It was cheap but well run and Remus had stayed there before during one of his folklore collecting trips. He relaxed in the pub, buying a round for the few men there as well. He went to bed in good spirits, eager to arrive on Severus' doorstep by the following evening.

He arrived at Whimsy Manor just as dusk was approaching, dusty and road-weary. The 'cottage', Remus noted with a wry twist of his lips, probably had been a small abbey at one time, like so many country homes, and converted into a family residence. A young boy of around ten years came scampering from the stables behind and bit away from the house, slowing down as he approached Remus' tired mount.

"Evenin', sir!" the boy chirped, holding the gelding steady as Remus dismounted. "Are ye Mister Lupin?"

"I am," replied Remus, pulling his bags from the back of his horse. "He had a hard ride today, lad, so coddle him a bit, would you?" Remus tossed the boy a shilling, causing the boy's eyes to widen in pleasure.

"Yes, sir!" The boy led the horse away and Remus began to climb the steps as the door opened.

"Good evenin' to ye, sir," welcomed a woman with round face and pear figure. Her bright button brown eyes glimmered with a warm welcome as she ushered Remus inside. "I'm Mrs. Drover, the housekeeper. Let me take that coat. I'll have it dusted off and ready for wear tomorrow by mornin'. Put your bags down here in the front hall and I'll get them up to your rooms in a moment. The master said to bring you to the library when you arrive."

Remus was hustled congenially down the long corridor of the main abbey and announced with familiar ease to the master of the house. "Sir Severus, Mr. Lupin has arrived. I'll bring that tea and cold collation here in a few minutes like you requested." With a last smile of welcome, Mrs. Drover shut the door behind her.

Remus looked eagerly around the room and spotted Severus lounging on a long divan, his lanky form draped almost artfully on it, a book lying on his stomach where he set it when Remus was ushered in. Remus smiled hugely and strode forward. Severus stood up quickly and they gave each other a quick, surreptitious kiss.

"You smell like horse, dust and two day old clothes," complained Severus good-naturedly, gesturing Remus to a chair by the fire. "You also look chilled to the bone."

Remus gratefully sat. The chair was thankfully more comfortable than the saddle he'd been astride for the past two days. "I'm exhausted. I stayed at an inn outside of Exeter but still, it'll be nice to be in a more comfortable bed."

Severus gave him a flash of a wicked grin. "Soft beds are all the kind I own," he assured. 

Remus laughed. "I'm glad. I'd hate to think we are only reduced to floors."

Severus chuckled but sobered quickly when Mrs. Drover poked her head in after a brief knock. "Will you be wanting anything else after the collation, Sir Severus? Michael is sayin' it looks onto snow comin' and we're wantin' to get home before it hits."

Severus waved her away. "Go now, do not wait. We can handle ourselves."

The housekeeper's relieved, grateful smile disappeared with the rest of her.

"She seems a good woman," Remus commented, holding his hands to the crackling fire to warm them a bit more.

"The Drovers," Severus finally stated after a long pause, "are aware of my proclivities." Remus stilled. "Mrs. Drover's younger brother was hanged for sodomy," Severus continued, staring into the fire much as Remus was. "Mr. Drover told me that the young man was of a gentle disposition, sweet-natured and fine-mannered. He worked hard and had no harsh words ever spoken against him, but they hung him anyway. Neither felt it was fair nor right in doing so. While they don't find our sexual desires natural, they don't find it criminal. I had heard the rumors and asked them about it. Once they confided their anger in the system and the injustice of what happened to Mrs. Drover's brother, I confided in return."

"Then they know about me," Remus concluded grimly.

"Likely they will suspect, but our secret is safe with them." Severus slid a glance at Remus' stoic expression. "We are safe with them."

Remus heaved a sigh and nodded, quirking a smile. "I'm glad. It's hard hiding what you are, who you are," he agreed. "Let's not be overly blatant about it, though. I'd rather not give anyone ammunition against them for maintaining our secrecy."

Severus smiled at that. "Indeed. Are you hungry? Would you care to clean the dust off before eating?"

Remus laughed. "I'm not sure which I desire most. I could wash off and change into something less restrictive, yes, and then we'll eat."

They talked companionably, Remus picking Severus' brain for local folklore and stories and was eventually told with no little amused exasperation that he needed to speak with Mrs. Drover, who was from an old local family and could likely tell him all sorts of tales. They ate the cold collation Mrs. Drover left for them, sitting in the kitchen, cozy as can be instead of using the formal dining room. Severus parted from Remus at their respective rooms with a soft brush of lips across Remus' cheek.

"You are tired from your journey. We've enough time to spend. Rest, for I plan on wearing you out tomorrow." Remus laughed and did as he was bid.

The next morning was bright and snow fell on the ground. Mrs. Drover managed to come in but Severus sent her home as soon as she prepared them enough food for the day. Both men were used to doing for themselves after years in Portugal and Spain, and for Severus, France and Italy as well. They chatted amiably, learning more about each other both intellectually and physically. It was the perfect idyll, Remus thought dreamily as they dozed next to the roaring blaze in the library, spread out on the thick rug from fervid lovemaking.

It was Remus' intention to remain until the day after New Years but Severus talked him into remaining longer. Together they tromped through the local villages, buying ale to get tongues loosened and Remus had several journals worth of notes on fascinating beasts and lore such as the Demon Dog, the Cerne Abbas Giant, and the story of Childe the hunter, a wealthy man who died during a snowstorm leaving his wealth to either the local Abbey or the men of Plymstock, whoever found and buried his body first. Remus and Severus trekked where the old tomb once stood until 1812, when a local man who owned the land sold off the stones. Remus did drawings for his book and they stayed at a nearby inn for the night, enjoying more local tales, ale and cuisine.

By the middle of the first week of January, Remus was loathe to leave the sanctuary he and Severus created for themselves. On Thursday evening, Remus lay in Severus' arms, his nose buried in Severus' throat. 

"I don't want to leave," he mumbled sleepily.

"Then don't," Severus replied, tightening his arms around his lover.

Remus yawned. "I have to. I need to get this book finished and sent to the publisher. They want it ready by end of February for sale. My last book apparently did well with the academic crowd and news that I'm doing another has started something of a pre-sale, if you will."

"People buying before it's even printed, eh?" chuckled Severus. "I suppose I can let you go to London for that."

"How kind of you, sirrah!" Remus mockingly rebuked, tickling Severus lightly on the ribs, causing the other man to squirm in surprised laughter. He pinned Severus down, his smile fading. Remus stared into those kettle black eyes for a moment and grew serious enough that Severus stopped his smiling. "I'm falling in love with you, I think."

"You think?" Severus arched an elegant eyebrow.

"I know I am and it frightens me." Remus rolled off his captive and onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. "This cannot end well, Severus, for either of us."

"Then we will challenge Fate to the bitter end like the soldiers that we are," Severus replied.

"I'd rather not hang from a gibbet doing it," Remus stated drily, giving Severus a poke in the shoulder.

"We can always flee to the Continent. While it's not considered de rigeur, most countries won't hang you for being different."

Remus puzzled over that a moment. "You mean France," he said flatly.

"France, Italy or even Greece." Severus rolled over onto his side to stare at Remus. "Even more folklore there that you can accumulate."

"And how would we live?" Remus asked plaintively. "I'll not go to France. I spent years shooting at the bloody Frogs, I'll not hide from my own nation amongst them." He sat up, bending his knees beneath the comforter and sheets, placing his arms upon them. He could feel Severus' eyes on him.

"Italy or Greece then," Severus repeated. "I could transfer my commission to some attaché or diplomat."

Remus gave Severus a surprised look over his shoulder. "You're still listed in the ranks?"

"On paper," Severus acknowledged with a tilt of his head. "I hold the rank of Captain technically, though I've never led men into battle."

"I don't recommend it," Remus said grimly. "It's a bloody affair and sometimes it's your own." He unconsciously rotated his left shoulder. A small scar where a musket ball went through him stood out, puckered on his skin.

Severus leaned over and kissed the scar. "You were a lieutenant, were you not?"

"Yes, in the 52nd Foot, 1st battalion," Remus replied heavily. "I worked as liaison with the 95th Rifles sometimes, as I was accounted a very good shot. I was ambitious at first, aiming for captain, then major. Wanted to rank out at major helping Wellesly chase old Boney right out of Spain." He ruefully rubbed his shoulder. "Badajoz solved that problem, everyone thought. I managed to march all the way to Cadiz and then all the way to Vitoria. I volunteered for San Sebastian. Took another bullet in the same shoulder, damned near the same hole as the first one. My father surfaced from his research long enough to pull strings in the Horse Guards and I came home a battered wreck." He gave a deprecating laugh. "Never made it into France. Went all the way to chase Boney and never made it into bloody France."

Severus absently rubbed the scar on Remus' shoulder. "I was behind the lines, working with the partisans, first in Portugal then in Spain. There's Spanish blood on my mother's side, it helped me blend in with them. Then I worked in depth behind French lines, mostly sabotage and carrying information."

"You were an intelligence officer," Remus sighed. "A bloody spy." He laughed. "It suits you, I must say, with your mysterious airs."

Severus arched an eyebrow at the teasing. "I never saw active combat like you, marching like good little tin soldiers. Mine was more cloak and dagger, slitting throats in dark alleyways, spreading dissent and lies as much as possible in the French ranks. No honor it, per the code of a gentleman, but I like to think I saved more than one lad from a horrible death with my deceits."

Both were silent as their thoughts turned to bad memories. "But it's over," Remus said with forced cheer. "May the Corsican Monster rot on his island forever." He leaned over to kiss Severus deeply. 

An hour later, with Remus sleeping in his arms, both of them sweaty from passion, Severus pondered Remus' last words that weren't pleas for sexual release. "Indeed, may he rot," Severus murmured, falling asleep himself.

* * *

London was brash, noisy, filthy and freezing. While the country had not been warmer weather-wise, it had seemed so in Severus' household to Remus. To make up for ditching his friends at the New Year's celebrations, Remus followed James and Sirius around to the hells, the whorehouses and other places a young buck went to get into trouble. Severus and he saw each other rarely for the rest of the month, meeting only at the odd function or in secret at either his or Severus' let rooms.

For Severus' part, he was content. His life of lies was behind him, the future with Remus was bright on the horizon and he was flattered when Remus shyly showed him a mock copy of his latest book on English folklore: "With appreciation to S for fond memories and explorations". Remus' tales were told with delightful freshness that captivated the common reader and scholar alike. Even Albus Dumbledore, Severus' former spymaster and dear friend, waxed enthusiastic about Remus' latest literary offering.

As January rotated into February, Severus should have known that things would not stay bright. First of all, Lucius Malfoy's cronies suddenly seemed to remember the bet, something Severus still had not explained to Remus. He had all the proper clothing but had been hoping the drunken fools would forget. Secondly, his desire to keep Remus close included becoming rather jealous of a couple of females who set their collective caps for the mild-mannered, quiet gentleman that warmed Severus' bed at least twice a week. Lastly, Sirius Sodding Black was becoming such a pain in Severus' backside that if the lordling wasn't careful he would find himself facing Severus across duelling pistols or swords.

The first matter was humiliating to broach but Remus took it in rather good humor when Severus mentioned his lost bet with Lord Malfoy. "A dress, in public at the height of the day?" Remus chortled into his brandy. "Of course, I'd be honored to escort you, Miss Snape," he added magnanimously, standing and offering his companion a formal bow as if they were at a ball.

"Sod off," groused Severus. "It's humiliating enough as it is without you giving me a mickey for it." Remus laughed again. "We need to get this over with as quickly as possible," he grudgingly stated. "I can't put it off much longer. I'd like to get it done before society returns full force for the opening sessions of Parliament."

"In short, before everyone and their mongrel dog can be in the park or on the street to watch and possibly identify you?" asked Remus with an unrepentant grin.

"Quiet, you," Severus rejoined with a sneer. Remus' grin widened. "How is next Thursday, perhaps at the ice fair instead of the park? I'll inform Lucius of the change of venue. Only his opinion of whether I settled the debt matters."

Remus hoisted an eyebrow. "I suppose I could be your escort on that day, yes."

"You will pay for it that evening," Severus informed him archly.

Remus toasted him with his brandy glass and a leer. "I look forward to it, then."

Severus was finding his jealousy a harder thing to control and hide. Which led directly into Sirius Black, Viscount Grimm's irritating entrance into their lives full time. 

"Lady Macy gives quite the shindig, doesn't she?" Severus looked up to find Remus' friend hovering next to him.

"It's the same as all the others," Severus said. Inwardly he sighed. The heir to the Earl of Grimmauld was well on his way past tipsy and approaching boskey if the way he was swaying in place was an indicator. Severus learned that once the viscount's limited manners were banished, he became argumentative, overprotective and tactless.

"Why d'you say that?" Sirius eyed Severus in askance. "Capital party!" He made a grand gesture. "And your friend is marrying my cousin, as was announced in the banns yesterday. Having the newly affianced couple at her party cemented her as a good hostess."

"Indeed." Severus wished he could think of a way of extricating himself from Sirius when James strolled up. He took one look at his swaying friend and frowned.

"Sirius, you've had enough." James shot Severus an inquiring look. Severus shrugged.

"Nonsense!" Sirius all but crowed, attracting several people's notice, including Remus, who was weaving around the floor in some intricate country dance nearby. "Me and old Snape here were having a congenial conversation. He's not the stick I first thought him to be-"

"Thank you," Severus said smoothly and started to walk away as quickly as possible but Sirius continued on as if Severus had not spoken.

"- he's worse! Or maybe," Sirius leered drunkenly, ignoring James' attempts to shush him, "stick is the word I am looking for." 

Severus froze and turned to face the drunk man. "What do you mean by that?"

James scowled at his friend, sending Severus a semi-pleading and exasperated look as if asking the other man not to encourage Sirius by rising to the bait. "Sirius, stop it. You're causing a scene."

"He's ruining our friend's reputation," sputtered Sirius, "and you are defending him? When he goes around sticking-" He gasped when James jabbed him heavily in the solar plexus with his elbow.

Severus arched an eyebrow, trying to hold onto to his temper. He darted a look at Remus, who had stopped dancing, bowed hastily to his partner just as the music stopped and began striding toward them, his face as thunderous as James'.

"Sirius!" James jerked on Sirius' arm. "Come with me. Now."

Remus reached them, shot Severus an apologetic look and took Sirius' other arm. "Quite. We need to have a chat, old friend." They hauled the loudly protesting lord away, both men's face set in grim lines that did not bode well for Sirius Black.

A half hour later as Severus was clambering into his rented carriage, he was hailed by Remus, who was tugging on his great coat, hunching against the pelting icy rain. "Give a lift?" he asked and Severus wordlessly gestured him in. Once they were settled and the carriage began rolling, Remus spoke. "I apologize for Sirius' behavior tonight. I could have throttled him."

"What seems to be his problem with me?" Severus inquired. He was curious but not concerned.

"You with me. Your friendship with Lady Lily." Remus' eyes slid away and Severus felt a frisson of alarm.

"And?" he prompted silkily.

Remus sighed and shoved a hand through sodden brown hair. Rain pattered hard on the roof of the carriage and Severus made a mental note to tip Charles well tonight. "James is jealous of you and Lily. Lily apparently mentions you often, as does Lady Evans." Severus growled. "Sirius' father worked in the War Department. He apparently is not overly fond of Dumbledore or anyone under Dumbledore." Severus' second growl deepened. "While Sirius hates his father with an unholy passion, he does on occasion pick up nonsense from his father and takes it to heart."

"And he doesn't like you with me because I'm breaking up the little trio," Severus added almost beneath his breath.

Remus heard and stared at him. "Yes but not because only I am moving on with my life away from them, but because both James and I are doing so and leaving him behind."

"Should I expect more embarrassing scenes in future?" Severus snapped, the turmoil in his gut making him waspish. 

Remus sighed heavily. "Probably and I'm sorry for it. I about tore his head off. James wasn't pleased with him either. Sirius ignores me, James he'll pay attention to, fortunately. James swore he would keep Sirius' mouth on a tighter leash."

Severus glared at his lover, his anger turning into an impotent fury at Remus' words. "Sirius should keep a tighter leash on his mouth. He's nearly five and twenty, isn't he?" Remus pursed his lips but nodded. "High time he grew the hell up like the rest of us. Spoiled, arrogant prat. No wonder the French hung their aristocrats."

The words were out of his mouth before Severus could take them back. Remus stared at him in open-mouthed shock. Belatedly, Severus remembered that Remus was heir to a barony, a small one, mind you, but still a landed title. A title that would have found his family before Madame Guillotine or a vicious mob twenty years ago in France.

"Let me out." Remus banged his cane on the roof and the carriage halted abruptly.

"Remus, I didn't mean-" Severus' apology subsided at the glare he earned from it.

"Yes, you did. I shall pick you up on Thursday as promised." Remus jumped from the carriage, slammed close the door and the carriage lumbered away once more. Severus leaned back on the squabs and cursed Sirius Black's name as well as his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
The story of CHILDE THE HUNTER is actually CHILDE'S TOMBE. Most of the pertinent details is recounted here, except one. The monument was almost virtually destroyed by the land's owner using the stones for another building. In 1890 it was partly reconstructed and stands still today.
> 
> THE CERNE ABBAS GIANT is a chalk figure that reminded me forcefully of the Nazca Lines of South America. A giant figure is a trench carving into the side of a hill near the Dorchester, Dorset village of Cerne Abbas. It also called the Rude Man or Rude Giant and is rather *cough* well-endowed. Wiki Entry Link Here.
> 
> THE DEMON DOG should be familiar to most Harry Potter fans. It's another name for the Grimm.
> 
> SODOMY LAWS in England were the harshest in Europe at this time. You can't be more blunt than this phrase lifted from wikipedia's entry on sodomy: "In England, Henry VIII introduced the first legislation under English criminal law against sodomy with the Buggery Act of 1533, making buggery punishable by hanging, a penalty not lifted until 1861." The following link was an eye opener. I was always under the impression that 'out of sight, out of mind' was the usual thing, but while that might have been true to a degree in most of Europe, this was not so in England. Homosexuality in Eighteenth-Century England has actual trial scripts, news paper articles and reports which is an eye opening insight, let me tell you. It is likely that the 'blind eye' was turned to the upper crust more than the lower echelons of English society but if you were blatant about it, the odds were good you would find yourself visiting Old Hob if the moralists had any say about it. Other countries in Europe had the laws on the books, but were not as stringent in enforcing them. At the time, they had larger worries than a few 'sodomites'...most of Europe in the late 18th & early 19th century was at war or in shambles from war with Napoleon Bonaparte.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art added 05/24/2020: Line art was done by a fellow Snupin community member on InsaneJournal called Skitty-Kat. I have been unable to find any accounts of hers on social media, but she still has her fanfics up on FF.net [HERE](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/303785/Skitty-Kat). Skitty-Kat did the black and white line art and graciously granted permission for my roommate to do the coloring. If anyone has information regarding Skitty-Kat or how to contact her, please comment? I would like to give her the credit that is due her. As I recall she was thrilled that I wrote Lustful Persuasions inspired by her art.

Thursday rolled around bright, crisp and clearer than it had been all week. That did not make it warmer. Severus gritted his teeth and stayed indoors, wrestling himself into the purgatorial feminine garb that Lily managed to smuggle to him. He could only imagine what their clothes were like in his mother's youth, with the wide skirts, panniers and silks and satins that women had to be sewn into...the godawful things. When the time came, he crammed the deep poke bonnet with its heavy interior ruching on his head, hair pulled up in a messy bun that no one could see due the bonnet and waited for Remus' knock.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, a perfunctory knock broke the tense silence of Severus' rooms. He jumped up and cracked the door open, to find a scowling Remus staring at him. "Are you ready?" he asked perfunctorily.

Severus pursed his lips and tried to think of an ice breaker. Obviously Remus was still peeved at him. "Women everywhere have my utmost sympathies." He gestured Remus in. "Let me grab my great coat."

Remus hesitated then stepped in. "Good God!" he exclaimed at the full view of Severus in gown.

Severus looked down self-deprecatingly. "Hideous, is it not? If Malfoy's cronies draw attention to me I shall throttle them all."

Remus swallowed and looked away. "It's fine," he stated abruptly. Severus snorted derisively. "Let's go. I tried to time this at the last portion of the afternoon's outings in the hopes that your potential aristocratic audience would have dwindled."

"What's left of my dignity thanks you," Severus retorted drily. He shrugged into the long coat, lamenting that while it covered his 'bosom' it did not detract from the fact that the lower portion of his body was in heavy green wool skirt and underlying two petticoats.

Remus ushered him out and into the hired carriage that Severus arranged to pick up Remus first and himself second. It trundled into the London traffic and in the direction of Hyde Park.

"I wish to apologize," Severus began.

Remus cut him off with a ruthless slice of his hand. "Don't."

"Why? Because you don't believe I might be sorry for my words?" Severus demanded.

Remus glanced sideways at his companion. "Because you might be sorry you directed them at me, but you aren't sorry that you have that opinion."

"Don't you have that opinion?" Severus countered. "My God, look around you, Lupin! See what the aristocracy and their small-minded arrogance is doing to this country. All those men you served with on the Continent that don't have fancy titles or family wealth are starving, underpaid or unemployed and likely wandering itinerants. And when they protest their lot, their reward for serving king and country, they are beaten, arrested or ignored."

Remus' lips thinned to a white line slashing across his face. "Murder isn't the answer."

"I never said it was, I just stated that the French peasants' reaction to their so-called betters is completely understandable." Severus scowled out the carriage window as it slowed to move through the thinning crowds of London's streets toward the frozen River Thames.

They were silent as the chatter of passing pedestrians, riders and other carriage occupants filtered to them.

"We came across this little village on the border between Spain and Portugal," Remus said in a low tone. "It wasn't very large, maybe fifty to seventy people total in population. It was very obviously poor, barely subsisting on whatever industry they had and the few crops they could grow in the rocky, overused soil. I was with a rifleman patrol, first time I went with them. We went in as quietly as possible, you never knew when the bloody Frogs were hiding behind closed doors."

Severus stared at Remus, transfixed by the haunted expression on the man's face.

"All I was seeing was mangy, half-starved dogs and a few scrawny chickens that looked as if someone had tried to catch them already, they were missing so many feathers. It was dead quiet, just the buzzing of flies and the whines of the dogs and the clucking of the chickens." Remus drew in a shuddering breath as the carriage halted by an isolated pier at the edge of the advertised Frost Fair per their earlier instructions. "The buzzing of the flies," he repeated grimly. "I remember that more than the whine of cannon balls before they land or the whizz of bullets past my ears."

He opened the carriage door, lowered the step with a kick of his booted foot and stepped down, turning to hand Severus down as if he were a fine lady. Obviously Remus' intention for this mad escapade of Severus' was to help maintain a cover as much as possible. Severus removed his coat before stepping down, threw the shawl Lily lent him around his shoulders in its place, shivering from the cold and from something else: the shuttered, empty look on Remus Lupin's face.

They walked through the crowd, drawing little attention as everyone else visited stalls and sampled wares being sold by various vendors. Remus was seemingly oblivious to it all.

"What did you find?" Severus was compelled to finally ask.

"Bodies." Severus swallowed at the flat tone. "What seemed like the entire village assembled in their tiny church, as much a shack as their homes. We found a few others, mostly women and young girls here and there in places of 'privacy'." Severus could feel the derisive emphasis on the word 'privacy'. "Raped, beaten, mutilated, all of them, even old women and one-" Remus' voice choked. "Her baby was cut from her womb while she was alive. Her hands were on her abdomen still, like she tried to put the baby back, to save it."

Remus rounded on Severus, amber eyes blazing. "That's what the bloody democratic, self-righteous French did to unarmed civilians, innocents who did nothing, nothing to deserve that sort of treatment other than exist. Do you think the brutes who murdered those people were aristos, titled men with nothing but bloodlust and idle time on their hands? No, they were French peasants who enjoyed every damned minute of it, who felt no remorse and likely laughed at the pitiful attempts to stop them." Remus' jaw set in a grim profile as he glanced away. "I will never forget those faces, burying them, not knowing their names, if I was burying a man next to his wife or his mother or a woman he hated. Two men, perhaps, lying side by side for eternity, who'd been rivals for the same senorita's hand. They had lives, Severus, snuffed out on a whim because the French wanted to inspire terror, humiliation and degradation on the populace so they could rule Spain instead. That," he remarked contemptuously, "is your fair and justified France."

He stalked away to an artist's shop to stare unseeingly at prints of the Fair for souvenirs, leaving Severus standing there, dumbstruck. Remus' chest heaved with buried emotion. Severus waited until the storm abated and then approached him, placing a hand on Remus' arm. "I didn't know."

"No reason you should. They were nobodies to those around them, friend or foe."

"They weren't to you, were they?" Severus asked shrewdly.

"They weren't to themselves," Remus corrected, "and they deserved better than that." His eyes went distant. "I had no problem shooting, beating, and hunting down every Frog I could find after that. No remorse, no regret. I wanted them all dead."

Severus remained silent, as Remus propelled them to walk. He kept Severus to the shadowy side of the lane, occasionally nodding with a bland smile to any acquaintances who gave him a curious look but did not stop to quiz him on his companion. "How long do we have to be out here?"

"Ah, Lupin. Miss." Both turned to Lord Malfoy's dry tone. He had a small group of grinning, gleeful cronies behind him. "I trust the day is fine enough for walking?"

Remus stiffened imperceptibly, but Severus noticed. Both inclined their heads to Malfoy. "Indeed," Remus said in a freezing tone. "I understand that I was the brunt of this malicious wager. I find I do not appreciate it. It will not happen again." His amber gaze swept the group. Grins faded at the fierce expression. All belatedly remembered that Lupin served through many battles in Spain and Portugal while most of them had not. The soldier was very much in evidence in his eyes and his stone-hard features.

Malfoy wasn't cowed. He returned Remus' look with a hard one of his own and then smiled urbanely, almost apologetically at Severus, draped in his feminine garb. "Miss, I suggest you request your escort bring you home. The chill is increasing. I fear snow later today."

Given a perfect, polite out, Severus took it. He inclined his head and wobbled a little on the short bob curtsy he attempted in deference to Lucius' station and Remus shouldered their way through the assembly. "Ah, Mr. Lupin?" Remus half-turned to Malfoy. "If you see Sir Severus, you might let him know that Lord Dumbledore was looking for him at his apartments just a few moments ago when I stopped by."

Remus nodded once, walked stiffly with Severus back to the hired carriage, handed Severus up, pulled up the steps and leaped into the carriage behind his companion, closing the door and pulling down the curtain. Severus watched him silently, daring not to speak. He wasn't certain what he would say. They did not speak until the carriage pulled to Severus' apartments.

Remus handed him down and Severus hesitated before going in. "Will I see you tomorrow night at Billingsgate's dinner?" he asked. He knew they both received invitations.

Remus looked at him a long moment and then smiled slowly. "Yes." He tipped his beaver hat once in acknowledgement of 'the lady' and then he was gone.

* * *

It took the two of them a couple weeks to recapture the lazy comfort they previously found in each other since Severus' outburst and Remus' confession. February was close to gone and the capital city of Great Britain was slowly being repopulated by the Upper Thousand, the haut ton, the aristocracy of the empire. Parliament would open in little over a month and the social season would begin in earnest.

Remus had several letters from his father, each one broadly hinting at his desire to experience being a grandfather before he died. Remus felt a twinge of guilt but set it aside as much as he could, confiding in Severus only once. Severus' derisive attitude towards titled gentlemen occasionally rang in Remus' mind like badly molded bells.

Sirius became more reckless in his antics, once almost exposing Remus' secret, if not for James' timely interference. The words were on the tip of Sirius' tongue, Remus saw the brash helplessness in Sirius' grey eyes. What ghost haunted his friend, Remus knew not, and was loathe to be in his company anymore than he had to be lest they both tempt Fate.

James was lovestruck and completely under the spell of the lovely Lady Lily, to everyone's amusement, most especially Severus, who often goaded James about being henpecked. The affection Severus felt for Lily was obvious and brotherly, but on occasion the two went nose to nose regarding Lily, to Remus and Lily's patent disgust.

March came and with it ill news. Napoleon Bonaparte escaped Elba and was returning to France to reclaim his throne and his army from the Bourbons. Word came that Louis XVIII sent General Ney to apprehend Napoleon and wound up joining with his former emperor instead. The Bourbons were fleeing France once more. Those European diplomats at the Congress of Vienna, it was reported in the papers, refused Napoleon's half-hearted extensions of peace but Napoleon didn't seem overly concerned. Rumors of France's armies mobilizing once more galvanized everyone in England.

Severus was horrified one afternoon to return from lunch with Remus to find Lord Albus Dumbledore in his rooms, partaking of Severus' French brandy, his blue eyes dull and his face lined like Severus never saw it before. In that moment, Severus knew what Dumbledore was going to ask of him.

"No." He didn't bother with a greeting.

"Wellington requested you specifically," Dumbledore told him gravely.

Severus shook his head stubbornly.

"No one else has the in and out with Napoleon's lackey, Lord Voldemort, that you do. Severus, I know you don't want to, none of us want to, but we need you back there. I can lay your cover fine, draw up documents in the War Department, feed them to the right people, get you back in tight with Napoleon's Dark Lord." Crystal blue eyes warred silently with inky black ones in a gaze for superiority.

"I have people that should know the truth," Severus said resignedly. He knew Dumbledore spoke only of what had to be done if Napoleon's ambitions of European conquest was to be finally halted.

"You cannot, dear boy," Dumbledore said with infinite understanding. "Not until it is truly over. It's the price we shall both pay."

"So I am to lose everything I fought for to have, merely because Napoleon swam off his blasted island?" snapped Severus with frustration. He felt like a trapped rat. He could see a future with Remus dwindling away.

"If, after it is done, the things you've accumulated can see your sacrifices for what they are then they are worth keeping. Otherwise," Dumbledore shrugged, a heavy motion that conveyed exhaustion from mental and physical worries, "they are not worth having. Flippant, but true, I'm afraid. I will give you a week to put yourself in order for a flight to France."

"Viva la republique," sneered Severus, throwing himself into an arm chair next to the blaze Dumbledore lighted while waiting for him.

* * *

The news blindsided Remus like a cold blue northern wind from the Artic, chilling him to the bone and leaving him adrift in shock. As Sirius almost gleefully repeated his news to an almost equally flabbergasted James Potter, Remus stood in the middle of a St. James Street walk like a frozen statue. He was certain his mouth was hanging open.

"They say he's fled the country," Sirius expounded with relish. "You better get to the Evans', James, help them weather the storm." James was already striding away before Sirius finished his sentence.

Sirius looked at Remus. "Well?" he demanded.

"Well, what?" Remus snapped back. "The one time in your life you actually pay attention to your father and it's over slanderous lies about a war hero." He strode briskly away, leaving Sirius alone in front of a glovemaker's shop.

He hailed a hackney, whistling for the jarvey loud and crisp, leaping into the barely stopped vehicle and giving direction to Severus' apartments. "I'll pay you to stay," he ordered as he scrambled from the contraption when they arrived. He barely noted the driver's amiable nod.

He raced through the gate and into the building, pounding up the stairs, his blood roaring through his body. They were lies, all lies. It couldn't be true. He clenched his fist and beat on the door, shouting Severus' name and demanding entrance.

"Not there." Remus spun and found the gentleman from across the hall peering at him through his open door. "Scarpered last night, bags packed and rent paid through the month." Remus gaped in horror at him. "I heard the rumors," the man continued blithely. "Was shocked, didn't strike me as a Frog lover but then, you never know these days, wot?" The door closed on the man's heavy jowled features.

"No," Remus strangled out. "No!" He beat on the door a few more times before admitting temporary defeat. He straightened suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Dumbledore!"

A few hours later, Remus closed his apartment door behind him, eyes heavy with salty grit from repressed tears and his body still reeling with disbelief, shock and righteous anger. Dumbledore laid the irrefutable proof before Remus, another man betrayed by the clever lies and face of one Severus Snape. Both men imbibed heavily in the Scots whiskey in Dumbledore's cabinet and Remus made his weary way home.

His amber brown eyes fell upon a brown paper wrapped package, the first run printing of his new book. The book he secretly dedicated to Severus. Severus had received a sample copy but a few other edits had been done and Remus wanted Severus to have the first copy ever printed. Tears briefly stabbed his eyes and he ruthlessly wiped them away just before they fell.

Four days later, he received a summons to the Horse Guards, requesting that he join his old unit in the 95th Light. They needed experienced officers and offered him the rank of Captain. He accepted, packed his bags and joined them a few days after that on their long march toward Brussels and their commander, Arthur Wellesly, Duke of Wellington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
ARTHUR WELLESLY, the DUKE OF WELLINGTON became a duke after Napoleon was sent to Elba. Many people used, and still use, his name interchangeably due to this. Of Anglo-Irish ancestry, Wellesly served in the Irish Parliament among many things before seeking his fame and glory like so many others in India. Having established a name for himself as a fighting man, when the time came to look for someone of rank and ability for fighting the French in the Peninsular War, Britain looked no further than Arthur Wellesly. Anyone referring to 'the Duke of Wellington' is almost always referring to the general, despite the fact that his ancestors hold the title to this day. Wellesly also held title in three other countries: Portugal, Spain and the Netherlands, all having to do with his military exploits in those countries against Napoleon. Wellington went into politics as a Tory and remained so until his death, holding offices such as Master-General of the Ordnance, Prime Minister under Queen Victoria, and held the title of Commander-in-Chief of the British Army until his death in 1852.
> 
> THE FROST FAIRS on the River Thames were conducted on the actual river during what is now termed "The Little Ice Age", in which the global temperature surged low enough that such occurrences such as deep waters like the River Thames and others froze solid enough all the way across and snow in the summer months such as June and July. The Frost Fair was in winter of 1815, as reported here and had many activities for all walks of life: ice skating, shopping at hastily setup stalls, food vendors and the like. Souvenirs at the shop like I mentioned were indeed sold and published throughout most of the 19th century as people looked back on the event with fond remembrance. The Frost Fairs were more common in earlier times, as the 1815 event was toward the dwindling of the Little Ice Age. I'm thinking though, they must have been dangerous, scandalous, adventurous and a whole lot of fun. 
> 
> NAPOLEON BONAPARTE left Elba, not like a thief in the night but with fan fair...he just waited until the patrol ships monitoring his island imprisonment were beyond range to stop him before he could reach mainland Europe. His time leaving Elba and his second abdication were called The Hundred Days or Napoleon's Hundred Days. While he was making his way back to Paris, the Congress of Vienna was currently arguing over how to handle the defeated France and keep the reinstated, malleable Bourbons on their throne. To say Napoleon's return and his armies flocking to their former Emperor's side put the Congress in a tizzy is likely to be an understatement. I'm there were more than a few gasps of alarm at the news. It takes time to mobilize armies, get them supplied and into place for a battle, which is why Waterloo took place in June instead of in March or April right after Napoleon entered Paris to acclaim on March 20, 1815.


	9. Chapter 9

The rapid French, mingled with occasional brusque German, the odd Italian or Spanish wafted to Severus' ears as he sat, idly toying with a knife, digging the tip into the fine mahogany table of some French aristocrat long since dead. The chateau was situated along the Belgian border with Luxemburg near the city of Bastogne. The man across the table from Severus, a pale grey-faced man who could only loosely be called a 'gentleman' owned another closer to Brussels on the northside of the River Meuse. He was Lord Voldemort, Napoleon Bonaparte's Dark Lord. After several years of playing spy against the man, Severus at the time was startled to discover the self-styled Lord Voldemort was in actuality an Englishman by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Riddle was a bastard, Dumbledore discovered, the son of an insignificant baronet and a local girl unwise enough to think that the man would marry her. Growing up as the village joke, Riddle fled for France during the first rumblings of revolution, smelling blood in the water like the scavenger he was, and joined early with Napoleon on the General's rise to power. Riddle changed his name to Lord Voldemort, rearranging the letters in his name, and refused to be called anything else. Napoleon himself bemusedly called the man Lord Voldemort, or 'my dark lord'. Either way, Lord Voldemort was a brilliant strategist and master spy for the Emperor of France.

"Word is that Wellington's troops are still amassing around Brussels," mused Voldemort in English but broke off. He glanced up, his blazing eyes that Severus swore sometimes burned fiery-red resting on a nervous young man with thick lips and thick neck. Severus knew for a fact that Walden MacNair was thick in the skull as well. A displaced Scotsman, MacNair was an oily git that Severus wouldn't trust with a rabid garden rat, fond as the man was of torturing helpless things. Lord Voldemort surrounded himself with very few overly clever people, and then only those he thought he had control or blackmail over. 

"What is it?" he demanded in flawless French when MacNair's mouth opened and closed like a cod fish.

"Please, my lord, a dispatch from the Emperor." MacNair handed over the coded dispatch to his master, who idly flicked it toward Severus. 

Severus unwound the tie over the leather case and quickly scanned the documents within. His heart began to pound with anticipation. "He wants to march to Charleroi and try to counter the Prussians before they reach Quatre Bras." Severus peered at the map nailed to the dining room wall with several silver butter knives. "He won't make it."

Voldemort snorted. "I have plans, Severus," the older man preened, reverting back to English even with MacNair standing there. Severus raised an arrogant eyebrow. "Plans that I think you will be interested in, being a disillusioned, ambitious Englishman yourself." Voldemort flicked a dismissive wave at MacNair, who bowed and slouched away after shooting Severus a envious scowl.

Severus yawned urbanely. The game between himself and Voldemort, at least in Severus' mind, was who could affect the more convincing role of bored English dilettante. "And what might those plans be?"

"France should not be ruled by a Corsican," Voldemort declared in low undertones. "Uncouth barbarian holding our beloved civilized France in his pudgy palms?" Voldemort affected a shudder but his eyes gleamed with near insane malice. "No, we allow Napoleon to crush Wellington, he's not half the general Napoleon is, and thus break the back of European resistance. Once Napoleon has Europe firmly in France's grasp once more, we seize control of France. They follow the Corsican like sheep, they will have no trouble following us just as well."

Severus goggled at him a stupified moment. His first inclination was to demand if Voldemort had taken leave of his senses but quickly realized that if it didn't get him killed, his incredulous question would not endear him further. Instead he settled with a shocked, "What?"

It was apparently the reaction Voldemort was anticipating, for the man laughed near maniacally. "Who would think, yes, that we displaced Englishmen would dare overthrow the mighty Napoleon?" 

Severus privately thought that if Napoleon did triumph over Blücher and Wellington, France would be damned lucky to maintain any sort of peace at all now with her reestablished neighbors let alone reconquer them. He smiled, however, and did the pretty, raising his glass to his 'master' in toast, covering up the shudder deep within his soul and ignoring the triumphant gleam in Lord Voldemort's power maddened eyes.

"In the meantime, grand future plans aside, we must aide our Emperor in succeeding," Severus stated smoothly after he swallowed a healthy swig of fine red Bordeaux wine. Power mad fiend he may be but Lord Voldemort chose good wines. "Am I to be dispatched somewhere at the moment?"

Lord Voldemort's enthusiasm waned, ebbing away like the tide, and he nodded. "Indeed." He nodded to the dispatch from Napoleon's aide de campe sitting in front Severus. "I will write a missive to the emperor in the morning, which you will take to him. At the moment, he needs a glorified messenger cum spy in as many places as he can get. You are very adept at fitting in with whomever you are around. You will be indispensable to him in that capacity."

Severus' heart leapt but he maintained his affable mien and an hour later excused himself to bed. It was, after all, going to be a long, hard few days running hither and yon for two masters. 

* * *

Dumbledore waited as calmly as possible for Arthur Wellesly, Duke of Wellington to join him briefly before retiring to the Duchess of Richmond's ball in a refurbished carriage house a few blocks away from Wellington's own chambers in Brussels. Neither one to take orders well from any man, Dumbledore and Wellington over the years formulated a good working relationship. Dumbledore stayed out of Wellington's way and Wellington stayed out of Dumbledore's. Rarely the two met in a 'working' setting, yet times and circumstances change.

"Ah, Dumbledore," greeted Wellington, striding into the room where Dumbledore waited, readjusting his medals and commendations so they were straight. "Any word from our intrepid gentleman?"

"Alas, Your Grace, not recently but do not be concerned."

Wellington waved away the comment. "Nonsense. Snape has a habit of landing on his feet much like a cat. Tis a pity we had to throw him back into action. I know he was not well pleased."

"No," Dumbledore replied, thinking that comment was a gross understatement. "He most definitely was not."

"He'll be more than well compensated if any of us make it through this mess." Wellington peered into a looking glass hanging by the door, grimaced at his hair, which defied a brushing in places and stuck up in little tufts here and there. He smoothed it, or tried, gave up and slapped his beaver hat on it instead.

"As soon as Snape gets you the information, tell me. I need to stay one step of Bonaparte if we're to succeed. God knows where the Prussians are at the moment. With luck, closer than we think." Dumbledore nodded. "Devilish business Napoleon has sent us, Dumbledore, devilish business, but I have little doubt that if anyone can help us turn the French through his intelligence, it's Severus Snape." With a confident smile that Dumbledore knew was mostly mask, Wellington departed, joining his senior officers and adjutants, also resplendent in uniform.

Wellesly left a lot unsaid, and unneeded to be said, Dumbledore knew. Without intelligence on Napoleon's whereabouts and plans, the Prussians, English, Dutch and assorted allies among the French and other nations were going to have a serious, bloody, possibly losing battle before them. If they lost this battle, there might not be enough army in Europe left that wasn't Napoleon's to stop him.

* * *

Severus' horse pounded through the night, over hill and over dale, to reach Napoleon at his camp just inside the Belgian border. He never saw the balding, rotund Emperor of France, to his relief. Napoleon Bonaparte was a shrewd man and Severus didn't trust his mask to dissemble his duplicity in front of him. Voldemort and his lackeys were no problem, Bonaparte himself was another kettle of fish altogether. An officious little worm handed him the missive, ordering him posthaste to Marshal Michel Ney with orders on crossing the frontier slightly ahead of Napoleon himself. Their goal was Charleroi, to intercept the Prussians under Blücher before they reinforced Wellington and the English allies of Orange, Holland and Hanover.

As he mounted a fresh horse and turned it back into the night, he tried to keep his mind on task, the grim reality of his environment. One wrong slip and he could end just one corpse of many on the battlefields to come. He had to stop thinking about honey-brown hair, amber brown eyes and a shy smile belonging to a man that he prayed was safe, if heartbroken, in Merry Old England.

* * *

"He's looking chuffed," James said in a low voice to Remus as they watched Sirius admire his cavalry uniform of red jacket and grey pants. His tall black hat and side saber sat on the bureau. Both Sirius and James got into the the light cavalry, or hussars. They tried to convince Remus to go cavalry but Remus knew ground fighting. It was bad enough killing the horses as a foot soldier. Having one die under him would likely drive him insane.

Remus privately thought they were both crazy, volunteering as they had. Sirius had never seen active battle before and James surely had seen enough to know he shouldn't be doing it again. As for himself, Remus was fairly certain he didn't care if he came back alive or dead. Black eyes framed in a lean countenance haunted his dreams, both awake and asleep. He used to scoff at poets who lamented about the pain of a broken heart driving someone to their death; Remus scoffed no longer.

"So we're to charge our horses around and look frightening and you're going to shoot at anything that moves and sounds remotely French," Sirius laughed, a reckless light in his eyes. James and Remus traded alarmed looks.

"Sirius," Remus said in such a somber tone that Sirius immediately sobered his gaiety. "I know you think this is going to be a lark, we'll shove old Boney back to France but it isn't going to be like that."

"Why?" Sirius' questions wasn't impertinent or even sarcastic but honestly asked. Like so many who'd never served before he was under the impression it would be an easy fight. Remus knew better.

"Napoleon isn't defending, as you would think," Remus explained slowly, thinking as he spoke. He'd overheard enough from other officers in his time in and around Brussels the last few days to get an idea of what was going on. "He's advancing on us, on the offensive, which is not a tactic anyone thought he would take. He's in a precarious position in France. If he wins, he's gold there. If he loses, it's back to incarceration, if he's still alive when its all done. This is his last throw of the dice, win or lose. This won't be an easy fight. We won't waltz in and waltz out, we'll march in and most of us might be carried out or buried where we fall."

"Keep your eyes peeled, old friends," James advised them both. "I'd hate to bury you both." 

Remus said nothing to that but all three leaned in for a hug, the sense of fatalism stealing upon them.

"I have to go," Remus told them. "We march tonight."

"What's the date we'll always remember?" cheered Sirius, bolstering once more though less jovially than prior to his friends' lecture. They'd used the question for every milestone in their lives, schools events, life events and most recently the night before James' special license wedding with Lily Evans a month prior.

"June 15, 1815!"


	10. Chapter 10

Remus had forgotten about the blackpowder smoke in the air, the burning of it in your lungs and the sting of powder on your face as you fired. Earlier that morning, he and the Rifles were assigned to the rise just south of a little country farm called Hougoumont with orders to hold at all costs. While assigned to the 95th, Remus discovered he and a few others were to be sent inside the farm with the rest of the battalions and divisions in there. They needed more sharpshooters, apparently, inside. Remus could handle that. It was likely to a lot safer than sitting behind some shrubs and trees as the French sent troops against the walled farmyard and orchard.

"Captain Lupin, sir!" saluted a lieutenant sharply as Remus entered with a few other green jacketed riflemen. "The major has requested that you and your men try to get on top of the rooves if possible."

Remus nodded. "Clearer shot," he agreed and motioned to his men. They stationed themselves accordingly and waited. As they did so, Remus thought back to the previous day's events at a little spot called Quatre Bras. The Prince of Orange had been pinned, Wellington went in for back up. Remus spent most of his time either shooting at the French or dragging the wounded away from their formed squares against charging cavalry. It enraged him to see so many young men, younger than he, sliced to ribbons. The allied forces eventually retreated, leaving Quatre Bras to hundreds of dead and the French. Remus served under Wellington long enough to know that retreat didn't set well on the newly minted duke's shoulders. There would be no retreats today if the man could help it.

It rained the night before, a torrential cloudburst, turning the fields and roads around the little village of Waterloo into an unholy mudpile. Some areas dried off quickly, others remained a quagmire. Somewhere out there were his friends Sirius Black and James Potter. Last night they spent the night in each other's company, stabled with Sirius and James' horses, not trusting someone to take off with them. James had received a letter earlier that day from Lily's maid stating that Lily was missing from their Brussels hotel but there was nothing James could do. He'd searched as much as he dared in the downpour but Remus and Sirius eventually made him give up for now.

"_Vive l'empereur!_" 

Remus, and everyone else's, head came up at the chant, growing closer with the footstamps of many marching feet. He focused on the here and now, the line of blue and white coats marching solemnly in the direction of the little chateau.

"_Vive l'empereur!_" The call grew louder, along with accompanying drums, timing out the march. Napoleon had sent troops to take Hougoumont, as Wellington predicted.

Remus gritted his teeth and traded a glance with the corporal next to him. Both men clutched their Baker rifles, a more accurate, if slower to load weapon, typical of the Rifles. "Hold 'em til they stop!" came a general shout from various officers in the buildings and around the farm yard.

"Christ!" exclaimed a man poking his head out a window below Remus' vantage point on the roof. "He send all the Frogs, that Napoleon?"

"No," Remus replied forcefully. "Just the ones he wants to get rid of." There was nervous laughter around him. "Rifles! Pick your targets and fire when you can hit them!" he ordered. Those who hadn't loaded did so.

Gunfire from the tree lined roads was already erupting and being returned but the main force of Napoleon's wave at Hougoumont was undeterred. The reflexes of soldiering came flooding back into Remus, like a forgotten physical memory. Aim, shoot, reload, aim, shoot, reload. Tear, pour, spit, ram, fire. Tear, pour, spit, ram, fire. Men fell around him and below him but Remus, like the rest kept shooting until the French broke and ran. There was a cheer until everyone realized that was just the first wave.

There would inexplicably be many more.

* * *

Severus had already ridden to death two horses, flittering hither and yon. His intelligence sent Wellington to Quatre Bras too late thanks to one of the nags collapsing beneath him. The other broke it's front leg in a sudden sink hole last night during the rain. He stabbed to death Lord Voldemort just prior so a quick getaway had been expedient. Apparently no one told the damned horse to watch where he put his feet. Severus had dodged several searching patrols, but now he was safely closer to Wellington than Napoleon, but safety was relative on a field of battle.

He saw in the distance red coated soldiers forming a square against French cavalry and silently wished the boys luck. Facing down cavalry was scary as hell, but likely the horses were less than thrilled charging bayonets bristling, four man deep squares of terrified soldiers as well. After the cavalry was fended off, Severus watched as the squares were decimated by French artillery. Squares were good for cavalry, not so good for exploding cannon fire. Gritting his teeth he pressed on, hoping like hell no one he knew was over there.

He finally slipped behind the lines in time to watch heavy and light cavalry pound by, under new orders to move somewhere else, their faces grim and determined. Some of them seemed stupidly excited at going into battle, the fools. He recognized beneath the bear skin shakoes Sirius Black, Viscount Grimm and Lord James Potter. Though there was no love lost for them Severus wished them well all the same, for Lily and Remus' sake if nothing else. A third face a bit further back from Black and Potter, however, gave him pause as it rode by.

It took several moments for the shock to penetrate as he realized who it was following her fiancee, garbed as a cavalry officer. "No!" he screamed in anguish. "Lily! No!" He ran after them, but on foot he had no hope of catching up and he had no idea where they were going. He sent up a fervent prayer for her safety and trudged on. 

Severus stumbled into a tent about twenty minutes later, utterly exhausted. Albus Dumbledore looked up in surprise and then pleasure. "Severus, my dear, brilliant, brave boy!" The old man gave him an enthusiastic hug. "You made it!"

"Barely, I assure you," Severus informed him. "Napoleon's spymaster and resident lunatic is no more. I stabbed himself last night at dinner. To say it spoiled the soup would be an understatement. He had nothing more useful to give us."

Dumbledore nodded. "It's all up to Wellington now."

"Indeed." Severus gave a yawn, wanting to sleep away his worry, exhaustion and fear. "Wake me when he's won, would you?"

"Lupin is here," Dumbledore said quietly and Severus righted with a jerk. "I'm sorry, I tried to stop his appointment but they needed experienced soldiers, and officers even more. He's with the 95th at Hougoumont farm."

Severus stared at Dumbledore in horror. The last he heard, the French were going to keep at Hougoumont until it fell, with the Emperor's brother, Jerome Bonaparte, leading them. With a sick feeling, Severus turned around and left the tent, staring in the direction of a little farm chateau; he could barely make out the rooftops in the distance. 

"Oh my God," he whispered. "Remus." He swung back to face Dumbledore. "And I saw Lady Lily Evans in with the Light cavalry, following Lord Potter. She was disguised as a hussar."

Dumbledore's lined face blanched and his crystal blue eyes flattened. "She's Lady Lily Potter now, Severus, and they were going to hold in ready to counter any cavalry attacks on Hougoumont and hold the center line if possible."

Severus sat heavily in the chair beside Dumbledore's mess table and stared into the distance. For the first time in his life, he folded his hands and prayed.

* * *

The French kept coming. They were game, if insane, buggers, Remus had to give them that. Earlier one of their officers had broken his way through the far gate with an axe but the defenders managed to get the gate closed and blocked once more. Now they were hunting the Frogs still alive inside the walls. Blood was singing through Remus' veins and he began to hum as he stalked through a narrow gap between the buildings. It wasn't like they weren't going to get the buggers.

Someone's voice joined his humming and soon the two of them were singing the lyrics defiantly, tauntingly.

Rule, Britannia!  
Britannia rules the waves.  
Britons never will be slaves!

Remus heard a crunch of gravel, paused, whipped around the corner and smashed a French grunt in the face with the butt of his rifle. The man, more boy than man really, dropped like a stone. His comrade in song came around the other corner and grinned at him. "Well, done, Major!" He saluted. 

"Not a major, boots," Remus replied to the stripling, using the moniker experienced soldiers called the new recruits. 

"You are now, at least on this side of the yard, sir. Not many more officers as high as you left, Major!" The kid smirked and ran back the way he came as fresh fire erupted over the wall.

"How about a blasted minute to think, damn you?" Remus muttered to the invisible French and heaved a sigh, checked his rifle's load and turning to drudge back. He came thigh to bayonet point to a grinning French lieutenant. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Remus leveled his rifle and fired at point blank range.

* * *

Dumbledore and Severus watched as the mid-afternoon approached. They counted about three separate and repelled attacks on the farmhouse and it's surrounds so far today. They couldn't see everything but knew that the French were unsuccessful and Wellington's center was still holding. A loud barrage of artillery starting in the south by the Hougoumont farmhouse caused them both to start. 

"What the blazes?" Severus exclaimed, taking out his field glass for a better look. "My God, Jerome ordered Hougoumont shelled."

"Why the Devil would he do that?" Dumbledore scrambled for his glass as well.

"There's a pathway, sir," remarked a young lt.-colonel who'd earlier brought a message from one of Wellington's adjutants to Dumbledore. "They are bringing the wounded out and supplies and reinforcements in through it, behind the farmhouse."

Severus moved the glass down as he caught rapid movement. "Looks like the cavalry is going into action, heading down the road."

"Probably to shore up the defenders, give them space to breathe," commented Dumbledore, watching through his own glass. He frowned. "No those aren't our cavalry, they're French."

"Good Lord, how badly does Napoleon want that farm?" muttered Severus in disgust. "He's wasting more men on that thing than he can spare."

"Well," Dumbledore said as he collapsed his glass and tapped it in his palm as he thought, "eventually they'll either breach the wall or the defenders will drop from exhaustion."

"Not if we keep fortifying them. I think those are a Grenadier company heading out to take out the guns. They'll be slaughtered." Severus watched a handful of English troops fan out from somewhere around the farmhouse and through the orchard. 

Flames leaped to life inside from the shelling and Dumbledore grunted. "They'll lose the buildings inside now. They won't have the man power to put out all of them."

"Dammit," growled Severus, his worry for Remus increasing as every flame licked higher and higher into the smoke clogged blue sky.

* * *

Remus just finished with the medical officer, tying off his wound and pushing away requests that he leave the field through the hollow way behind the farm. The artillery started as he was reconnoitering back inside, in case there will still a lingering French soldier somewhere. There wasn't, unless you counted the little drummer boy that right off was saved. Flames and smoke were billowing around the men as everyone tried to put out the fires started by the artillery fire from the French beyond the woods. Remus grabbed a blanket and began beating out what he could, shoving the pain from his mind as he'd done many times before.

"Second battalion, go out and get rid of that artillery!" came a shout from somewhere by the orchard gate and Remus' head went up at the call. 

He hobbled as quickly as he could over to the officer in command. "Sir, I would like to accompany them. I'm with the 95th. Would like to rejoin them out there if I could?"

The officer, a Colonel that he didn't recognize, looked Remus up and down. "Are you sure, Captain? You're wounded and-"

"With all due respect, sir," Remus rudely interrupted. "I'm a crack shot. I can't do much more else here. I heard when I was getting patched you'll have reinforcements soon. I can be more useful shooting Frogs out there." The colonel hesitated a moment longer, then nodded reluctantly. Remus saluted, checked his bag and his rifle to make sure it was loaded and filed in with the Grenadiers heading out into the orchard to stop the artillery fire. He needed to kill some more French and this was the best way to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a music lover, grew up on traditional folk songs, mostly of the American West. Cowboy tunes, songs of soldiers, ballads of the Appalachian and Ozark Mountain folk, I love 'em. Americans should be proud that we have so many in this country willing to not only preserve the songs of our own brief heritage but also of other nations where our European, African and Asian ancestors came from. I'm not dissing on my native ancestors either, but they have always been a society steeped in oral tradition and while so much has been lost in the last century, a lot was preserved as well. I was very broken-hearted to see that there didn't seem to be too many out there with albums of soldier songs from this time period unique to a British soldier. Some songs, such as Johnny Has Gone For a Soldier, stems from earlier times (probably the English Civil War) or Gentleman Soldier are familiar to many reenactors in America because they were sung during our own Revolutionary and Civil War, and thus preserved that way. Lyrics abound on the internet, from folk music books and the like, but very few seem to have actually been recorded using the instruments of the day. The Sharpe series soundtrack has some of them from the tv show, sung by various artists including John Tams, who also was in the show. You can find them sporadically mixed in with other folk or Celtic artists but not an entire album of them. If anyone can recommend some from the Napoleonic wars that I can download or buy from somewhere I'd be grateful. In the meantime, for those interested in unique American songs from our own war history, I highly, Highly, HIGHLY recommend Bobby Horton. My father found him while driving (he was an over the road semi driver) and the family has been in love with the man's work ever since. Some of you who have seen Ken Burns' Civil War documentary may recognize the name or at least some of the songs by Bobby Horton. He has many albums featuring songs specific to the American Revolution, both sides of our Civil War, Stephen Foster, Appalachian hymns and folk music. For those more interested in the American West, the older country/western artists are the best. Sons of the Pioneers, Gene Autry, and Marty Robbins to start you off. Michael Martin Murphy in recent decades has been doing the old cowboy ballads as well. There's nothing like "Streets of Laredo" to get you mellow and depressed.
> 
> I apologize for not waxing poetical about Waterloo, but really, it's not hard to do a little bit of research on line or in your library. Its a very well-studied series of battles, from Ligny to Waterloo itself. I hope I do it meager justice for the purpose of this fic.


	11. Chapter 11

The 2nd Battalion retook the orchard and drove the French back into the woods beyond Hougoumont's borders. Remus slipped in and out of cover, heading for the north point above the road where the 95th Rifles were still tenaciously hanging on. He found his commanding officer, a humorless man who was not pleased to see him there already wounded despite his shooting ability. Ordered along the edge of the road with the others, Remus picked off French as they came into view, choosing his shots carefully and never seeming to miss. Every once in a while, he'd dart out when a comrade fell wounded or dead out of cover and drug them back for aid or a silent minute of mourning. Everyone there noticed it and everyone of them remembered it.

"Hear they've been calling you Major, Captain Lupin, inside them walls," chortled the man next to him, a blue eyed, cinnamon-haired Scotsman by the name of MacDonald. "One of the few officers not dumb enough to get shot."

"Well, I did come thigh to point with a bayonet," he replied with a grin, aiming a shot at a hapless fleeing French colonel. 

MacDonald laughed. "Aye, well, yer still breathin' which is better than some of these buggers."

Hoof-beats beating a tattoo came down the road, heavy cavalry from the sounds of it. Word was passed faster than the horses approaching that it was French. Everyone loaded who wasn't already. As soon as the French cuirassiers , their metal breastplates flashing in the sun, was halfway down the line, the barrage of gunfire rent the air. Some of the bullets bounced, some did not. 

More hoof-beats from the opposite direction pulled the Rifles' attention. English cavalry coming to the rescue. Remus' heart skipped beats as the two mounted foes clashed. Gun fire continued from the north of the road from Remus and his comrades. He thought he saw James for a moment. He for certain spotted Sirius, grimly slashing down at a dismounted Frenchman. He wheeled his black horse and attacked another. Remus shot the man approaching Sirius' back. No one killed his friends on his watch if he could stop them.

The road eventually cleared, at least of the living and non wounded but fresh troops of French were being flung at Wellington, Hougoumont, and further away another farm house that Remus vaguely recalled from the maps as La Haie Sainte. The fight was far from over and Remus grimly settled down for more of it.

* * *

"What's over there? Severus pointed and turned to the map. "It's too far too see."

"La Haie Sainte?" Dumbledore looked at the map as well and then back out of the tent flap. "Yes, its another farm stead, smaller than Hougoumont. I believe The King's Legion is holding it."

Severus pursed his lips. "Here's hoping they can last as long as Hougoumont has. There's no place to escape if not," he motioned to the map as an explanation.

* * *

The 95th broke from the tree cover and engaged in hand to hand combat with what was left of fleeing French from both infantry and cavalry from all around Hougoumont. His blood on fire and his face flush with more than just a possible fever from his wound, Remus fought with his mates in arms. He had very little shot left and used it sparingly, preferring to beat his opponents with his fists or rifle instead. 

Someone's voice rose in near manic gleeful song and Remus with a few others joined in.

I left my home and I left my job  
Went and joined the army  
If I knew then what I know now  
I wouldn't have been so barmy.

Poor old soldier, poor old soldier.  
If ever I 'list for a soldier again  
the Devil will be me sergeant

Rapid hoof-beats of a few horses, but not a company of them, approached and Remus swung around with MacDonald. A quick barrage of sparse fire and MacDonald dropped. Remus felt the burn of a bullet and swore as his numbed fingers of his left hand dropped the rifle. "Why is it always the left shoulder?" he complained before pitching over himself.

* * *

Sirius Black was having a glorious, if nerve wracking, time. He came to the rapid conclusion that battles were for idiots and wished he couldn't count himself among them. He was here, so were his mates, and he'd be damned if he left them to their fate. James and he had ridden hell for leather through two attacks that day and were gearing for another against more French cavalry beating down squares of red-coated troops. Word was filtering through them all that the Prussians were nearby.

Peter Pettigrew rode by and gave both he and James an arrogant nod. "Christ," spat James, "hasn't some Frenchie blown him off his horse yet?"

"Apparently even French bullets don't want him," Sirius remarked grimly. He pulled off his shako, wiped his brow with a slightly grimy kerchief and replaced it. Both men checked their shot and swords, making sure they could be pulled cleanly.

"Formation!" screamed their commanding officer. They fell into line. "Get 'em off the squares, boys, so they can form line, march on Boney and break him."

There was a roar of shouts agreeing with this tactic and once the signal was given the horses were nudged into a walk, then a trot, then a canter and finally a gallop, the pace eating the ground beneath them, their blood singing with the exertion, each man one with his mount.

The snorting of the animals, the jingle of the tack and the excited whimpers, pants and huffs of the men filled their minds and ears. Each man rode for glory, for God, King and the man beside him and before him. They rode for victory, but few would live to see it.

Sirius swallowed a cry of dismay as James' chestnut pulled ahead by one length and then two. Sirius' horse was more powerful, true, but wasn't as nimble and surefooted as James'. Another horse drew up to him and he glanced to the side. Horror shot through his body.

"Lily?" he shouted in disbelief right before the entire unit crashed into the French mounted troops attacking the red jacketed squares. He tried desperately to keep her in sight, but in the confused melee lost her completely. He spied James several times, tried to get his attention even as Sirius slashed his way around, trying to spot Lily. He was certain it was her. Those green eyes were a dead giveaway inside that elfin face.

Peter whipped by, his rifle leveled. It fired and Sirius looked where it was pointed. James was falling from his horse, his face ashen, his glasses tumbling from his face. A high pitched scream almost made Sirius pass out. Lily's voice screaming James' name. It was a nightmare. Sirius slashed out instinctively to protect his mate, though in his heart he knew it was too late. The sword stabbed deep in Peter's arm, cutting it off almost completely.

"Black!" roared someone behind him.

"Murderer!" Sirius roared, pulling his sword out of Peter and swinging again, shoving the sword deep into the murderer's side as he got closer for the maneuver. He withdrew the blade once more and didn't bother to watch his one time friend fall from the saddle onto the bloodied ground. Sirius slashed down at two approaching dismounted Frenchmen, killing them both in his maddened rage.

He kicked free of the stirrups, grabbing his loaded musket as he did so. Swatting the black on the rump, he stepped free of the horse's blockage and fired at another French soldier some distance away. He made it to James' side and rolled the man over, but hazel eyes stared into nothingness. Sirius felt the sob more than heard, wrenching up from his gut. He turned and heaved his stomach empty.

Hard hands hauled him up and away. Sirius fought, screaming incoherently, his mind now fixed on finding Lily, but the witnesses to his attack on Peter pulled him away, passed the square and onto to eventual incarceration. They unknowingly took him past a slight form, her bayonet lodged in a Frenchman's chest before a bullet felled her too. Lady Lily Potter lay only mere feet from her beloved husband, dead on the same battlefield.

* * *

Word spread that Napoleon was in retreat. Severus had not been part of the actual fighting but was exhausted nonetheless. Once the all clear had been given, he left Dumbledore's camp immediately. He had to find Remus. He had to find Lily. Dumbledore got word through the inevitable officers' grapevine that Viscount Grimm was witnessed attacking and killing a fellow cavalry officer. The whys and wherefores could not be gleaned. Severus picked his way through the exhausted soldiers limping, drudging or just standing everywhere, pondering if Black had gone into a blood lust craze. It happened, Severus knew, but couldn't bear thinking about it anymore.

He checked the infirmary tents just the other side of the almost completely decimated farm of Hougoumont. About the only building not burned to the ground was the chapel. The walls were pock-marked with artillery shell blasts and bullets. Severus was certain La Haie Saint a crow's flutter away would look worse; the King Legion lost the farm there mainly, word said, because they ran out of ammunition and had to make a run for it to the sparse reinforcements sent to them too late.

Every light haired man in a dark uniform made Severus' heart leap, only to be disappointed that it wasn't Remus. He rolled over body after body, some still breathing and he found help for them if he could. The rest he said a brief silent prayer and kept moving. He found some members of the 95th all over the place, for they had been busy all around Hougoumont but he found no sign of Captain Remus Lupin. He grilled those he found conscious, even if they were dying. Some reported Remus in one location, others elsewhere. He'd been wounded, one man reported, bayonet to the thigh but then he'd gone out of the farm to the main Rifles compliment. 

Another man reported he saw Captain Lupin by the road but didn't know if he was still there, or whether he was alive or dead. Severus headed for the road. It was a mess. Bodies were everywhere, most were dead. The rest would be before the overworked medics and doctors could get to them. He found several officers, all dead, but it offered him no comfort that Remus wasn't among them. If so many officers were down, Remus might be too. It was standard operating procedure to shoot the officers and leave the rank and file in chaos without their leaders.

Something moved in the distance and Severus pulled his pistol. He'd already shot two looters. He had no stomach for scavengers. Creeping in the deep night shadows of the tree-lined road, he saw that it was a man in the green wool of a Rifleman. Severus skidded onto the road and leaped two bodies. The man who was moving was struggling with another, another with fair hair burnished silver in the dim moonlight.

"I'll help," Severus told the soldier. 

"I'll be a-thankin' ye, sir," slurred the man, his heavy whiskers obviously auburn even in the dark. His Scots burr was thick with pain and exhaustion. "We've been callin' him Major all demmed day, but they should have called him Demon. Fought like one, even with two wounds. We both pitched over when some Frog deserters come ridin' up. The captain saved my skull he did. One of the horses were getting ready to crush this Scots noggin' of mine when the Captain rolls himself over on top of me and takes the brunt-"

Severus staggered under the weight of two men as the Scotsman's consciousness slipped away. They all three fell. Severus scrabbled for the Scotsman's pulse but it slowed and pulsed no more. A quick inventory of the man revealed a body covered in blood. Too much blood to recover from its loss. Frantic now, as the Scotsman's words burned into Severus' brain, he feverishly scrabbled for Remus' pulse, felt the flutter of light breath on his cheek as Severus held his lover close.

Severus sagged with momentary relief, inexplicably crying. He took a moment to gather his control, lifted himself and Remus up and staggered through the mess of bodies on the road, back through the trees and the orchard, what was left of Hougoumont and the hollow way to the infirmary tents. He staggered close to one and pitched over in a dead faint.

* * *

There were murmurs, distant as if from underwater. Remus struggled with consciousness and he must have made a sound or motion because cool, long-fingered hands cupped his face. He felt a damp cloth on his heated skin and tried to turn toward the coolness of it. He was hot and cold at the same time, something he knew he should find alarming but was so tired that he couldn't bring himself to care. He tried to open his eyes but even that was too strenuous and he fell back into the comforting darkness.

When next he roused, Remus blinked his eyes open, felt the fever raging within him and peered into the gloom of a dimly lit room. It was shackboard and cheap plaster. A fire raged in a tiny fireplace. He noted a small kettle on the boil. He wanted to get up, but instinctively knew he should not move. 

"Hello?" he tried to call but his lips were too parched and his voice too soft from disuse and misuse. 

A shadow loomed over him nonetheless. "Remus?" 

Remus gave a start. "S'vr's," he slurred in surprise. "Is it you?"

The lean, long-nosed face leaned closer, peering into his blood-shot, fevered eyes. "Yes. I'll explain all later. Rest. You're fevered from your wounds."

"How-" Remus tried to ask but Severus shushed him softly but sternly. He acquiesced and fell back into a healing slumber.

Severus collapsed back on the purgatorial chair he'd been sleeping in for the past three days while Remus' fever raged. He fought against the infection in Remus' body as much as he fought against everything else: tenaciously and determinedly. No mere fever was going to take Remus away from him. He would not lose Remus again.

A couple hours later, Sirius Black entered the room, quietly closing the door behind him. "How is he?" Sirius asked, black hair tousled from the wind outside.

"He awoke, was lucid," Severus said around a yawn. "He's still feverish though but I think the worst has passed." He arched an eyebrow at Black's heavy countenance. "What did they say?"

"They found some letters and a journal among Pettigrew's things," Sirius replied morosely. "He apparently thought James had done something to him and was seeking vengeance. Didn't say what in them. It backed up my story enough that I've been discharged without rank, but I could care less. He murdered James and I avenged it. That's all that matters to me."

"And Lily?" Severus asked softly. 

Lady Lily Potter's body, clad as a cavalry hussar was found mere feet from her dead husband's. A bayonet not her own was still in her hands and lodged in the belly of a French soldier. The bullet that killed her ripped through her throat, an instant kill for the most part. Severus always knew she had a warrior's spirit. Word was people were alternately horrified that a gently bred woman participated in a battle dressed as a man and impressed that she died so ferociously.

"She and James are together still, it seems, even in death," Sirius echoed the thoughts in Severus' head. "I can mourn them and be comforted with that thought. Mrs. Evans is completely distraught, of course. Inconsolable. Both of them are being sent home for proper burial."

Sirius and Severus said nothing but both glanced down at their remaining friend and lover. "I have to rest, Black," Severus finally said. "Much as I don't want to, I've been going nonstop for over five days. I'm beyond exhausted. Can you-"

"I will watch him. If anything changes even slightly I'll wake you." Sirius clapped Severus companionably on the shoulder. "I apologize for thinking ill of you."

"You were supposed to think that," Severus began, uncomfortable with the earnest look on Black's face.

Sirius interrupted. "I mean before." Severus arched an eyebrow inquiringly. "I felt my two best mates, the only real family I've ever had, slipping away, moving on and leaving me behind. I couldn't go with them and it was eating me up inside with the jealousy and envy." Sirius gave Remus a fond look. "He blossomed with you, our Remus, found his footing and found a happiness he was so certain he would never find. I'm glad he did, you as well." Sirius sighed heavily. "God knows, there is little enough of that commodity in this world. Go sleep. I'll watch over our erstwhile hero here."

Severus hesitated and then nodded. "Thank you," he finally replied and went to make himself a makeshift pallet on the floor. He fell asleep almost instantly and didn't awake for many hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
AFTER WATERLOO, Napoleon wasn't long on the throne, so to speak, of France. He was supposedly trying to flee for the Americas but the naval blockades halted his progress. He surrendered himself to Captain Frederick Maitland of HMS Bellerophon on July 15, 1815, a month to the day of the start of the Battle of Waterloo. Napoleon's so-called One Hundred Days were up. He was transported eventually to St. Helena, where he died May 5, 1821. A study in the 1960s reported that he died of arsenic poisoning over long periods. This is somewhat true, but it was purposeful poisoning. Through various recommended treatments throughout his entire life, Napoleon had been poisoned and poisoning himself. One of the hazards of medicine in that era. Recent rulings have stated the original autopsy findings in 1821 are correct: he died of complications from stomach ulcer, the treatment of which was a medicine high in arsenic. He was eventually interred at Les Invalides in Paris. A very good exhibit went through the U.S. a few years back, with various items from Napoleon's reign including his and Josephine's costumes from their coronation and Napoleon's things from his home on St. Helena. If it travels again, I highly recommend a visit.
> 
> Oh and the tune for the song Remus and his comrades were singing can be found here. It's called The Rogue's March (or Poor Old Soldier) and I love it!
> 
> According to this website Battle of Waterloo under the Disintegration heading (which I would love to have access to some of these primary sources *whimper*, is this bit of information on the battle scene after it was done:  
This what the record of Major W. E Frye After Waterloo: Reminiscences of European Travel 1815-1819 states:  
“June 22. This morning I went to visit the field of battle, which is a little beyond the village of Waterloo, on the plateau of Mont St Jean; but on arrival there the sight was too horrible to behold. I felt sick in the stomach and was obliged to return. The multitude of carcasses, the heaps of wounded men with mangled limbs unable to move, and perishing from not having their wounds dressed or from hunger, as the Allies were, of course, obliged to take their surgeons and waggons with them, formed a spectacle I shall never forget. The wounded, both of the Allies and the French, remain in an equally deplorable state”. I think that pretty much says it all, don't you?


	12. Chapter 12

Remus awoke sticky, hungry, and tired, but he woke. He knew it was a miracle in itself, considering the wounds he remembered sustaining. He moved his head to one side and spied Sirius sitting in a chair that looked too rickety to hold the man's strong figure, reading a book in the waning sunlight coming through dirt smudged windows. 

"Sirius," he whispered, his voice scratchy. He coughed.

Sirius bolted upright and was at Remus' side in a heartbeat. "Good, you're awake." Sirius beamed at him. "We've been worried about you, old boy. I wish you'd stop getting yourself stabbed and shot. It's becoming a bad habit."

Remus smiled weakly at the half-hearted joking rebuke. "I thought I saw..." His words faded away as another face swam into his view over Sirius' right shoulder. "Severus?"

Sirius glanced back and then moved aside. He watched as the other two men just stared at each other. He wasn't sure who was more the white elephant in the room, himself or the awkward silence between Snape and Remus. "You two need to talk. I'll fetch more water so he can be washed. You stink, Remus."

Remus said nothing, just continued to stare at Severus, drinking in the lanky form, lean austere face and eyes as dark as his hair. "I thought I dreamed you."

"No." Severus shifted his weight nervously before pulling the chair Sirius had been sitting in closer to the bed. "You didn't dream me."

"Why aren't you in leg irons, traitor?" Remus spat weakly.

"Because I'm a spy, you idiot, not a traitor."

"We hang those," Remus retorted. 

"Not our own." Severus briskly checked Remus' bandages, frowning at one that needed changing. "I had to go back and needed an airtight story. Dumbledore writes more fiction than that Mrs. Radcliffe novelist." Remus choked on a laugh. "Stop that," admonished Severus sternly, relieved all the same at Remus' reaction. "You've been stabbed by a bayonet, shot twice and had a horse trample you. Good God, man, did you have to run into every object that whizzed in your direction?"

"I didn't get hit by any of the artillery," Remus pointed out reasonably.

"They weren't aiming for you," sniffed Severus almost primly. "They were aiming for the buildings."

Remus grinned. "I missed you," he said.

"I missed you as well, now shut up so I can change this bandage." Severus worked with quiet, knowledgeable efficiency. When Sirius returned the two of them worked in tandem. They'd obviously done this before, Remus mused.

"Where's James?" Remus asked around a surprise yawn. "With Lily?"

Both men stilled and Remus felt his heart lurch. "Oh no, poor Lily. Poor James." He missed the swift glances exchanged as he yawned once more.

"You can't fall back asleep yet. You have to eat something," Sirius told him grimly. "You have hardly taken a gulp of broth or porridge in three days."

Remus wrinkled his nose but obediently allowed Severus to spoon feed him. He felt weak as a newborn foal; even the simple task of eating broth was exhausting. "I lost a lot of blood," he murmured to Severus as the other blotted his lips maternally.

"Yes. I thought I lost you."

"He fell over in a dead faint all over you, in fact," teased Sirius from over by the fire where he was making tea. Despite having had servants do for him his entire life, the couple months bivouacked in Brussels waiting on Napoleon to appear had taught Sirius the advantages of self-sufficiency.

Remus furrowed his brow. "I don't understand."

Severus wouldn't meet his eyes. "I looked everywhere for you. I'd been riding hard all over the damned place, ferrying messages between Napoleon and his lackeys and then over to Wellington to keep his lordship apprised as I could for two days. Then I spent another day and a half looking for your bloodied corpse." Remus gaped as Severus continued in a brusque, slightly embarrassed manner. "I found you, go you almost to a hospital tent near Hougoumont when I couldn't do anymore. My body failed me and I dropped you."

"He fainted right on top of you. From what I heard the doctors were in a panic over who was the more injured party." Sirius was gleeful in his ribbing of Severus.

Remus slanted a look between them. "You two seem to be getting on," he noted around a yawn.

"We've declared peace until you are well enough to play referee again," Sirius informed him loftily. Severus snorted. "Well, mostly peace," Sirius amended with a shameless grin.

"I'm glad," Remus replied around another yawn.

Severus leaned over and kissed him gently on the mouth. Both men ignored Sirius' indignant "hey!" as Severus caressed Remus' bewhiskered cheek. "Rest," the lanky man murmured. "I have to report to Dumbledore and Wellington as soon as I am able."

Remus nodded, yawned one more time and drifted back to sleep. 

He next awoke to pre-dawn light. Sirius' light snores stopped when Remus moved. "No, you can't move." 

"I have to relieve myself, Sirius," Remus said stubbornly. A jar appeared. "Ugh," he grimaced but allowed the humiliating situation to be done and over with. "Reduced to chamber maid, have you?" he teased as Sirius removed the jar. Sirius said nothing. "Where is Severus?"

"He hasn't returned. I'm sure he's getting interrogated six ways from Sunday," Sirius replied, now fussing with Remus' bandages again. They sat in companionable silence. "Peter killed James on the field of battle," Sirius finally blurted. "Lily died about three feet from James. She'd stabbed a Frenchie right in the belly before she was shot."

Remus raised his good arm to cover his face with his hand. "Oh my God," he said softly. 

"I killed Peter. I saw him shoot James and went berserk. They locked me up until it was revealed what happened. I've been discharged without rank." Sirius' confessions continued, with his interrogation, the journals in Peter's belongings, Mrs. Evans' charge against Sirius and Remus as conspirators in getting Lily killed, and Sirius' belief that Severus Snape was likely the best man he'd ever known.

Remus listened to it all, too tired to even cry for those they'd lost. War did that, he knew, numbed the soul until the pain and the triumphs meant little anymore. When Sirius' words finally broke into tears the other man hadn't allowed himself to shed, Remus held him best as he could, allowing the grief to pass.

"How'd you do it, Remus?" Sirius finally asked when the storm subsided. "All those years in Spain and Portugal?"

The bedridden man sighed. "You finally don't care anymore. It's the only way. You take it personally at first, then you feel a bit sick, then you feel nothing, and then it's just business as usual. You get hard, tough, because if you don't, you'll die too."

Sirius stared at him and then started when they heard footsteps approach the door. It opened to reveal an older man with twinkling blue eyes and heavy white beard almost as long and unruly as his hair. "Dumbledore," Sirius greeted grimly. Remus offered a nod as well.

Dumbledore smiled brilliantly at them and stepped in. Behind him came Severus, looking ashen-faced and tired. Remus bristled, ready to castigate Dumbledore for keeping Severus for so long but the words died away with the third figure made both Sirius and Remus stiffen in shock.

Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington, entered the one room chamber that Severus secured for Remus' recuperation. Housing had been dear before the battle; space for the wounded and dying was even more at a premium now that it was over. The grand marshal of the Coalition forces seemed unfazed by the poor surroundings. Remus and Severus knew the wily commander had lived in worse himself in the fields of both India, Portugal and Spain.

Sirius scrambled to his feet and bowed formally but Wellington waved it away. "No need for that, Lord Grimm," Wellington said easily. "I have come to speak with Major Lupin."

The room stilled at the mistake in rank. Remus cleared his throat. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but I'm a captain, sir, not a major."

Wellington looked amused instead of irritated at the chastisement. "On the contrary," he rejoined with a brief upward flick of his lips, "you received a field promotion to major on June 19th. You were unaware due to your," the duke hesitated mischievously, "health concerns."

Sirius started to grin but stopped at the continued gravity of Severus. Remus noted it as well. "I thank you, sir, then for the honor you do me." He waited, sensing there was more.

"Indeed, indeed," agreed Wellington placidly, walking over to the chair near Remus' bedside and setting himself upon it easily. "I was most impressed with the various reports of your doings both at Quatre Bras and Hougoumont, Major. Most impressive young man, you are, most impressive."

Remus tilted his head in wary acknowledgement. 

"I remembered your name after a time. You served under me as well in Portugal and Spain," continued Wellington, his blue eyes starting to blaze a bit. "We need men of your mettle, Major, which is why I'm prepared to promote you immediately to Lt-Colonel if you will consent to lead men further. We need your stamp in India or the Americas."

And there it is, Remus thought, the other shoe. A shoe he was honored by tremendously but desperately did not want any part of. He looked over at Sirius, who was looking a bit startled and shocked. His gaze drifted over a beaming, yet perceptively shrewd Dumbledore, who seemed to know the war in his mind and his heart. His amber gaze rested on Severus, who was studiously staring at the bedclothes.

"Your Grace," Remus began, "this is indeed a singular honor. I'm flattered and flabbergasted."

Wellington's eyes sharpened. "But." It was a prompt, the unspoken word in Remus' sentence.

"I must decline. I hate being a soldier," he confessed. "I've done my duty to country and king, bled and fought and suffered enough, I think. I do not believe I would be the asset you think. I am a scholar, not a killer, in my heart. I am very honored by your confidence in me, though, and will treasure the confidence you have in me until the day I die."

Wellington's eyes briefly sparked, but not in rage, but satisfaction. "You were right, Dumbledore, it seems. Our Major Lupin is indeed made of stern stuff."

"Yes, Your Grace," smirked Dumbledore unrepentant. "And now we need to leave the major and the captain alone to discuss other matters."

Wellington's face hardened a moment, his conservatism asserting itself briefly, then he shrugged. Hard-nosed conservative though he was, he'd been in the army long enough to know that the world was made of all different souls and he was not one to judge where no judgement need be made. "I will take a won't ask, you won't tell stance then and thank you for your fine service to your king and your country, Major. I will expect upon your return to Britain that you will be selling your commission and will be saddened by the loss." The duke nodded perfunctorily to them all and scuffled out of the tiny chamber, Dumbledore on his heels.

Sirius looked between Remus and Severus for a moment, thinned his lips in a scowl and smacked Severus on the shoulder as he past the other man to quit the room as well. "Speak now or lose him forever," Sirius told him in low undertones that Remus still heard. Severus scowled at Sirius' back as the man left, closing the door behind him.

"Still only a captain, eh?" Severus' head jerked up in astonishment at the teasing tone. "Better get a move on, old boy, or I'll be leaving you in the dust. I'm a published scholar, don't you know, and a soon to be former commissioned major recognized by the Duke of Wellington himself."

Severus' lips twisted into a smile at Remus' taunting words and the flirty light in the brown eyes. "I love you," Severus blurted. "Don't leave me. I'll not lie to you ever again."

Remus' smile and levity vanished. "Indeed?" he said in a haughty tone. "I should hope not, or I shall report you to the magistrate for breach of promise."

Severus choked on a laugh. "And what promise is that?"

"There was a lot of hints of forever and never letting me go, following me to the ends of the earth and the like. Was it just talk?" Remus idly examined his right hand, as if inspecting his fingernails. 

Severus stared at him like a thirsty man did water. "You know it was not."

"There you are then. I took it as a promise and I mean to hold you to it." Remus risked a peak at his erstwhile lover. He was relieved to see Severus' face open with affection and, dare he hope, love. "We cannot pledge ourselves in church before God but I will pledge it here before you and damn the rest. I love you, Severus Snape, and I will til we die. Come what may, whatever the laws of our homeland say, I will love you and remain faithful."

Severus gingerly sat on the bed and gathered Remus gently in his arms. "And I you, Remus Lupin, and I you."


	13. Epilogue

The last leaves of fall were blown down by the hearty winds blowing across the windswept fields of Dorset. Remus idly watched them flutter to the ground, book of German fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm on his lap. It recently came into his hands, an original German copy, as a gift from Sirius to while away the hours. His old friend knew how restless he could get being housebound.

The fire crackled merrily in the grate, illuminating the glow of amber in his eyes and in the small swallow of after dinner brandy left in the glass on the little table next to his chair. Severus had gone out right after dinner when one of the tenants came rushing in to report one of the thatched rooves collapsed. Everyone on the tiny estate of Whimsy Manor was doing damage control for the coming fall storm so the family who lived in the damage cottage lost none of their possessions and had temporary shelter until the roof could be replaced.

Due to his injuries, Remus wasn't much help in manual labor. His shoulder, now having been shot three times in five years, could be deuced difficult about heavy lifting. His thigh wound caused him the most grief, especially with inclement weather. He tried walking out the discomfort, but it only made it hurt worse so finally Severus nagged him into resting it when it hurt.

Severus, Remus grinned to himself, had become quite the mother hen but Remus didn't mind it. Sirius said Remus seemed to like being hen-pecked but it was alway said with a laugh.

"Is there aught else ye be needin', Mr. Remus?" Mrs. Drover came bustling in, her button eyes sparkling cheerfully.

"No, Mrs. Drover, everything was wonderful as always. If Sir Severus ever lets you go, I'll murder him in his sleep." Remus and Mrs. Drover shared conspiratorial smiles. Both knew Severus would cut off his right arm before he'd let the Drovers go.

"Well, ye be restin' the leg or I'll be knowin' the reason why," she admonished. "Kippers or kedgeree for breakfast?"

Remus thought about it. "Kippers, I think, and your eggs with some biscuits will suit fine."

"That it will. I'll be seein' you in the mornin' then, I will." She picked up odds and ends here and there as she spoke. With a wink and an affectionate smile, Mrs. Drover left the little study that Remus and Severus used jointly.

Remus drowsed a bit more, wondering how long Severus would be outside as the storm encroached. He'd been at Whimsy Manor for about a week now, having spent all of his recuperation time following their return from the Continent at Lupin Hall. His father had fussed and fretted, as had the servants Remus knew since childhood. Driven to distraction, he fled to Whimsy Manor and the safe haven of Severus' arms.

The front door opened and closed, Severus' baritone calling for tea and for Mrs. Drover to get home after delivering, lest she blow away. Severus explained when Remus arrived that he tried to do for himself but the Drovers' wouldn't hear of it. So he put up with being molly-coddled, Severus reported with a slight sneer, as if he were an infant. Remus was finding Mrs. Drover's pampering much less intrusive than his family's servants. Mrs. Drover at least knew when Remus and Severus wanted to be alone.

"There you are!" Remus greeted with a smile. "Come warm up by the fire. It looks brisk out there."

Severus snorted. "Brisk, cold, and as irascible as Albus Dumbledore on occasion." Remus' grin widened. "We've got a temporary patch up that should last the storm and all their perishable belongings stored in the barn. Hopefully it'll go through quickly so we can get a proper roof done before winter hits."

"Mmmm," Remus said, distracted by the play of Severus' shirt on his lanky yet muscular frame as Severus removed his jacket.

"Ah, Mrs. Drover, excellent. Now go home. It's cold out there and I'll not have you catch your death." Severus glared at the woman while she poured each of them a cup and then bustled out of the room.

Remus stretched his legs out again, rubbing his slippered feet up and down Severus' long legs as the other man stood staring pensively into the fire. "Tuppence for your thoughts?" he invited cheekily. Severus slanted him a considering look that made Remus pause. "What's happened?"

"I have something to ask you, yet I'm rather uncertain to your reaction. I would ask that you hear me out before making any response." 

Remus frowned but nodded encouragingly. "All right. Drink your tea, then, while you do it."

Severus folded his long body into the chair opposite Remus', sipping his tea and staring out the window behind Remus. "We have each confessed our feelings to the other. Those who matter to us know our secret liaison."

"Except my father," interrupted Remus. Severus stared at him. Remus shrugged. "But I think he knows, or at least suspects. I've been getting less haranguing about the lack of my heir."

"Mmm," Severus hummed skeptically and Remus shot him a lopsided grin. "Anyway, I know you aren't predisposed to London anymore than I am. Business, the occasional bolt to Town for things we can't get here, that sort of thing." Remus nodded. "I want you to live here, with me. Any locals who get too nosy, we can claim that our mutual studies are beneficial together than apart. We can spend part of the year in other places for your research, Wales, Scotland, the Lake District, where ever as you like, to deflect too much interest."

Severus hesitated, taking in Remus' wide eyed look. "I know that you are hesitant due to the laws of the land regarding our sort. With good precautions and allies on our side, we can easily thwart the more bloody minded about us with little difficulty." He sighed and looked away from Remus once again. "I do not like living alone, I have discovered. I have rather grown attached to having you in my arms at my leisure. I spoke with the Drovers and Mrs. Drover drove a hard bargain, living up to her name." His expression turned wry. "She wants a good education for her son. I have no issue with that. He's a smart lad and it's a bribe worth paying."

Remus snorted. "Bright? The lad's a bloody genius."

Severus let out a brief chuckle. "He took to learning French quick enough, didn't he?"

"And Portuguese and Spanish," Remus added.

"Quite so. There will be obstacles, especially in Town but to be together until we die, I think a few days apart here and there won't kill us, no pun intended. I want you by my side, Remus," Severus stated earnestly, facing the other man squarely and looking him dead in the eye. "I almost lost you and I won't let it happen again. I will keep you close so that should something happen to either of us, the other will be there. We cannot marry, of course, but we can do the nearest thing. It will matter only to us. Will you give me forever, Remus?"

Remus closed his eyes a moment in joyous disbelief. "Forever and a day, my love, forever and a day."

Severus let out a whoop and pulled Remus into his arms, the book of German fairy tales falling to the floor. Their lips met in a frantic kiss, hands tearing at clothes. "I am so glad you bought a better rug," panted Remus as Severus knocked them both to the floor in his haste. "I didn't like to complain about the other one. The burns it left..." He gasped as Severus' mouth suckled his cock eagerly. "Bullocks the carpet," he gasped as Severus turned his body, lowering his own member into Remus' mouth. 

Remus laved Severus' balls and began to suck, mimicking the motions Severus was doing on his own member eagerly. Soon the two could hardly work the other, so great was the pleasure they received. Remus came first and Severus pumped into Remus' mouth close behind. Severus rolled off Remus and managed to get himself rightway up before they both collapsed into a lazy lump on the new, plush rug.

"I want that every night," Severus managed to demand.

"Three times a week," negotiated Remus with a weary smirk.

"Three times a week and a fuck in the tub," Severus replied. "Final bid."

"Sold." Remus yawned. "Sirius is going to be dead chuffed."

Severus levered himself up on one elbow and looked down at Remus, his black gaze almost a light charcoal from their frantic fellatio. "Why?"

"He's been nagging me to nag you into letting me live with you."

"That bastard," laughed Severus. "He just wants someplace to hide when London gets too hot to hold him."

Remus laughed. "True that, but I heard he's been giving the eye to our local squire's daughter."

Severus looked startled. "Miss Cushington?"

"The very same. And I quote," Remus chortled, "Right nice tits, Remus, and I could stare into those eyes forever."

"Indeed," mused Severus with a mischievous sparkle in his own kettle black eyes. 

"Don't you go teasing him about it," Remus admonished, smacking Severus' chest, bare beneath the torn open shirt. "He's already reeling from the fact his father disowned him for his brother Regulus."

"Sirius Black," drawled Severus lazily, "can more than fend for himself. Just so long as he doesn't interrupt our morning lie-ins, you know he's welcome." Remus grinned. "Now, It's Friday and you're behind two for the week." Severus arched an elegant black eyebrow. "Should you be getting to work?"

Remus laughed again and obliged his lover. Neither would balk at using a little lustful persuasion to get what they wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHORS NOTES:  
KEDGEREE and KIPPERS-I've ALWAYS wanted to know what these are. I read them in all the modern historicals that people have them for breakfast. Kippers, to my horror, is fish, herring to be exact. Ew. For breakfast? Of course I don't eat fish anytime (I don't count tuna as fish, don't ask) so I'm thinking I'll skip that typical English fare. I was even more disgusted to discover the kedgeree is an Indian dish with (you guessed it!) fish, rice, parsley, curry, egg and other optional ingredients. My first thought was "Brits eat too much fish". My second thought was "yuck!" LOL! So if you've ever wondered, now you know.
> 
> THE BROTHERS' GRIMM are two men almost everyone knows from childhood. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm were German folklorists, linguists and philologists who first published their book of collected German folk stories in 1812. Other books and studies followed to great acclaim and publication. They were working on a German dictionary toward the end of their lives, Wilhelm dying in 1856 and Jacob in 1863. Jacob was also a lawyer. They were not, as portrayed in the movie Brothers Grimm with the late Heath Ledger and Matt Damon, two charlatans fleecing the countryside with faked exorcising and demon-repelling. Jacob was court librarian to the King of Westphalia and both men were devoted to the study of languages, developing Grimm's Law. They eventually taught as professors at the University of Göttingen. After protesting the abolishment of a popular, liberal constitution, they were exiled from Hanover to Kassel, where they lived and began working on their dictionary. Both men were highly respected and popular literary writers and grammar experts. The study of folklore the world over owes much to these two men's 'hobby' of studying the stories that inspired their interest in their Germanic language heritage.


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